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shrenvents · 4 months

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Guard Dog II

Part one

Warning: minors dni, fluff, smut, fingering, penetration, no protection, language

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x you

Summary: You and Daryl have started seeing each other, but not much has changed between you two. Yet, all you can think about is how much you need it to —need him to touch you, but he hasn’t made a move. Thus, you take charge.

Word count: 1.6k

…

Though it hasn't been said, flat out, you and Daryl are dating. And although nothing about your dynamic has altered, you’re still fairly certain, you're dating now.

But, the routine is just the same. You go somewhere, Daryl follows. However, nowadays you talk regularly, and he's visibly more comfortable. The others even started to notice your relationship and the changes in Daryl as well. One of which is, according to Eugene, is he seems happier, lighter, like a weight has lifted from his shoulders.

So, how is it that you feel something missing? You guessed a relationship with Daryl would be nothing less than this. But deep down, you expected him to at least touch you. And all you really wanted, was a kiss.

Sometimes, when he's close enough, you feel his warmth radiate over your very being. Sometimes, you sense his touch from when he grabbed your wrist, and held you in his arms weeks ago.

It left you craving more. Perhaps it did for him too...

Various times you swore his hand would hover over your skin, debating whether to reach out to you or not. Other times, he follows you to your house, but never steps foot inside, not since that day. He continuously stops short at your front deck, giving you a prolonged nod for a goodbye.

You’re shy in many ways, as is he, so if things were to change, you figure you have to be the one to take the reins. After all, he did admit to "wanting" you, so what did you have to lose?

…

Sighing, you open your door, squinting to welcome the blazing sun.

As of late, your mornings consist of this smouldering summer shine, and a mouthwatering, sleeveless Daryl Dixon, leaning against the pillar upholding your porch, waiting for you to wake.

"Morning!" You greet cheerfully. Daryl looks at you, and his scowl instantly softens. "I'm thinking we should do something today, together," you boast, trudging off the porch. "You know, switch up our usual routine somehow." Pausing thoughtfully, you notice how patiently Daryl observes you, waiting for your word, without any interruptions. It almost shocks you how docile he truly is, beneath that dim, tough exterior.

Your eyes explore Alexandria's landscape, catching areas with dull greenery. Your mouth opens in 'ah!'

Daryl appears disquiet and you holler, "Gardening!"

"No," he contradicts, quickly shutting down your idea. You huff, hindering a small smile. "Oh please, it would be fun!" You persuade, "This place needs more character, it's too-" desperately searching for a word, you make Daryl smirk a bit. "Colourless right now," you proclaim.

"And adding some flowers, will make this place look less like a 'dump'?" He mocks plainly.

"I don't think it's a 'dump,' it just needs some," once more, you seek the appropriate word, and Daryl expels a breathy chuckle. "Sprucing," you finish, and he nods with a tiny shake in disbelief. "Let's go!" You shout, heading to a plain field of grass.

"Yes ma'am," Daryl grumbles behind you, and you giggle.

...

The both of you spend hours outside, digging up weeds, replanting flowers, and spreading plant seeds across the lot. The whole ordeal left you both filthy, decorated in dirt. Though it's nothing new for Daryl, you feel pretty disgusting, not to mention 'hideous.'

Engrossed in your obsessive thoughts, you miss the way Daryl longingly watches you. That’s until you feel a plant stem, tuck your hair behind your ear. You spy Daryl’s calloused fingers, gently placing a pink flower there. His pinkie lightly coasts down your locks, to your shoulder.

You peer into his eyes, struck by his tenderness. His dilated pupils hold so much depth, that you get lost in them. So absentmindedly, you shift closer to Daryl.

His eyes roam your face, down to your lips, focusing on them.

A short breath escapes you, heart dropping, and he stands up. Now on his feet, Daryl brushes the grime on his hands in a clap, then lends one out to you. “You’re covered in dirt,” his throat bobs, “Let’s call it a day,” he heaves you upright, “take a shower.” You nod in agreement, kind of discombobulated.

Hand in hand, you silently walk to your house. Once you get there, he retracts his palm from yours and scratches his crown awkwardly. “You’re not coming?” You mumble shyly, and his wide eyes shoot to yours.

You fight to remain calm, staring at him. He licks his lips, once again, looking at your parted ones. “Separate showers, or...?” He asks airily.

“Whatever you want,” replying in a whisper, you slowly back up your steps, intently watching him. He refuses to break eye contact as he follows you inside.

When the door clicks shut, the only audible sound is his breathing, which is more like panting.

“You sure about…?” He trails off, delicately admiring your face. When you faintly mouth a 'yes,' his eyes train to your figure. You leisurely stride towards him.

“You’re so,” before he finishes, you peck his lips. He jerks his jaw moderately, and his gaze struggles to decide, whether to look at your eyes, or your body.

“Touch me,” you practically beg, nudging his abdomen with your knuckles. His sharp breath fans your face, and his expression distorts right before he instinctively, crashes his mouth into yours. Tongues mingling together, he grunts quietly, and you hum a whine in return.

Bodies pressing hard against each other, his hands tangle into your tresses, cupping your head. He rolls his hips rather harshly and you whine louder.

Breaking away with his name on your tongue, you clutch his hand and haul him upstairs.

Reaching the top of the staircase, he hugs you from behind and buries his face into your neck, breathing in like you're his lifeline.

“Daryl,” you sigh then gasp when he suddenly lifts you up. Your toes drag on the floorboards while he sucks on your nape. “Bathroom,” he rasps.

“To your left,” you huff in response, pushing your backside atop his crotch. Daryl just about growls, hastily carrying you into the bathroom.

Putting you down nicely, he forcibly tugs the shower curtain to the side. You spin to look at him and see him surveying you, staring down at your frame like he's in heat. You bite your lip, raising a hand to push away the black hair blocking his eyes.

“Can I?” He asks politely, gesturing to your clothes.

“Yes,” you nearly moan.

Together, you remove each other’s garments, one by one, piece by piece. Eyes equally wandering, to every newly revealed section of flesh. Daryl adorns your naked body and his lip tilts. You lean towards him to turn the shower knob.

The shower head roars, and Daryl tenses when the tips of your breasts graze his chest. “God,” he groans then takes your dome in his hands again, yanking your mouth upwards.

Your fronts fix together, and he palms your ass, reddening the skin there. His hard-on rubs your cunt, and he ambles you both under the flowing stream of water.

“Fuck,” you moan wildly when your spine hits the cool wall.

“Ya feel amazing,” he resounds into your ear, kissing it with a swipe of his tongue. You grind onto him. “Like that baby, again,” he instructs hoarsely, almost pained.

Moving in sync with each other, his cock continuously moves over your clit. You whine his name over and over, scratching your nails across his biceps. You moan out appraisals and smooch a trail from his chin to chest.

His hushed tone chants your name, trying to get your attention. But, when he gets tired of you ignoring him, his digits abruptly slip into you. You instantly cry out, then move in rhythm with his fingers, riding them. He begins to elicit an orgasm, so you pull away from his aggressive kiss. “Wait, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper.

“Good,” he groans with a smirk, trying to capture your mouth again.

“No, no, I wanna cum with you,” you plea, whispering, "on you," barely coherent. His fingers immediately slow and withdraw, at once, replaced by his girthy cock.

You scream a yelp and Daryl releases a lengthy, unreserved, animalistic groan. “So, tight,” his dark voice grates your ears. He cups your breast, playing with its nipple, and you sob while he mutters how badly he needs this.

After a moment of adjusting, Daryl starts thrusting. "Harder!" You express, and his hips lunge into you, untamed and vigorous.

Though his bottom half ruthlessly takes you, his hands and mouth are kind and attentive. His palms glide over your torso, holding you securely, and he kisses your features.

“Daryl, I love it,” you exclaim, then repeat yourself.

“Y-yeah?” He stammers, pinning his forehead to the side of your skull, and you grip his muscular biceps. “Yes, you’re so good.”

He growls your name, pumping even faster, evidently getting closer to his climax.

His hands move to squeeze and spread your ass, and ever-so-slightly, his finger sweeps across your unfilled hole, circling it. You squeal and huddle into him, and he murmurs something so quietly, that you can hardly hear it.

“What?” You gasp, craning your neck back.

“-fucking love you,” Daryl moans roughly, hoisting up your leg by its thigh. “Shit.” Pushing into you one last time, he pulls out to cum on your stomach.

Daryl's confession strikes such a cord, that you also cum when he removes himself.

Blanking, you aimlessly watch him stroke himself, and he grits his teeth at the sight of you flushed and wet.

Eventually, his meaty arms embrace your trembling form, snaking around your curves firmly. And after a short while, you hug him too, burying your face in his sternum.

“Can you, say that again?” You ask meekly, and as if he can hear your smile, he chuckles. “Later,” he pauses to kiss your scalp, “Lemme catch my breath first baby.”

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things-arent-what-they-seem66 · 5 months

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Adam set the special plant down on the night side table. After what happened last time he didn't want to risk it getting broke again.

He really loved that garden, almost as much as he loved the devil who made it for him. "Luci, do you know of any plants foreign to Pride that I could grow here?"

Lucifer thought about it for a minute. "Wrath has some that are on the more man eating side if you're looking for a challenge."

"Ooou that sounds fun! Can we go to Wrath this weekend?" Even if the whole ring was filled with hick imps.

Lucifer smiled. "Sure, it'll be a good outing for us."

Adam crawled into bed and placed a kiss on his boyfriends cheek. "Thanks." When he pulled away, Adam sniffed the air. "What's that smell?"

Lucifer paused, he put his book down and sniffed as well. "Smells like smoke." The sound of glass bursting caught their attention. They ran over to the window and the sight floored them.

Adam gasped. "My fucking greenhouse!" He took off out of their room to the garden that was set ablaze.

"Adam, wait!" Lucifer ran after him. He didn't need him to do something reckless.

They got to the garden doors, flames and smoke pouring out the broken windows. Adam went to touch the door but hissed when the knob burnt his hand. "Fuck!"

"Hold on!" Lucifer brought out his wings and used them to create a huge gust of wind that blew the doors open and extinguished the fire.

Adam looked in with devastation, his hands flew to his mouth, he felt his eyes get wet. Who the fuck would do this? "No...." He walked in, every plant was chared, burnt beyond help. Everything in the greenhouse was destroyed. "It's all fucking gone." Adam let a sob slip out.

Lucifer tried to find something among the remains that survived but there was nothing. A puddle on the ground shined, he placed his hand in it and sniffed.

Holy oil. So he couldn't just fix it.

"Where would anyone get this around here?" Lucifer wondered aloud. When he heard Adam sobbed he went to him. "Hey, it'll be okay. We can clean up and replant."

"That's two years of work literally up in fucking smoke. How did this...." Adam cried into his hands.

Lucifer held him and guided him out of the ruined greenhouse, there was nothing they could do right now. He just happened to look down the hallway, an evil smiling shadow dissolved when it noticed him.

He would have gone after that fucker if Adam hadn't have been so upset.

Adam sat in their bed holding the only remaining flower that came from his greenhouse. He was glad he had the foresight to bring this one to their room. He cried silently as he gazed at the flower.

Lucifer just wanted to take his pain away. He may not be able to take away Adam's pain but he knew who he was going to give pain to. "I'm gonna go downstairs, do you want anything?"

Adam just shook his head no, slowly.

"Okay." Lucifer placed a kiss in his hair before he left.

He had a fucking deer to hunt.

#adamsapple #lucifer x adam #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer

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abalidoth · 7 months

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Replanting (Chapter 2)

(Chapter 1)

(Read on AO3)

You wake up at six on the dot every morning.

It's a habit from before, but there's something about being up before the Unionists -- who tend to sleep late -- that comforts you. They've adapted to your schedule some, at least; there's a neatly wrapped breakfast waiting outside your door when you get up.

Each morning you eat, do a basic set of conditioning exercises, and navigate the labyrinth of corridors.

Sometimes you make your way to the roof, and bring your food with you. It's an unexpected luxury, being able to eat wherever you want, and the rooftop balcony is usually empty.

There's a bench there, and a lovely view of the grounds of the facility. For as utilitarian as the architecture is, they take care with the greenery; the cultivated surrounds transition gracefully into the native forest, and the sun glints off the glass of the city in the distance.

But most days, your impatience gets the better of you and you head straight for the hangar.

They won't let you sleep in Acacia, but they at least moved you to a closer room and gave you a special access badge. There are usually a few mechanics wandering around. A few are even brave enough to call out to you.

"Hello, Acacia," you say. Her lights brighten in response, the seal on her canopy cracking open with a hermetic hiss.

You climb inside, swab the connection pads off, and become whole.

Acacia is chewing through the Unionist's scientific databases of plants. They're still not comfortable giving her the full uplink to their civilian databases, but her talks with the Union's machine minds seem to be going well in that direction. You ride her thoughts as she learns, and taxa and diagrams of anatomy blur through your awareness.

Dr. Crane comes by at some point, mug of coffee in hand and sometimes a colleague following her like a contrail, and settles into the couch she dragged into your mechbay. She asks questions -- considerately undirected after the first few times, letting you or Acacia or Acacia-through-you or you-through-Acacia answer as desired.

"Can you tell me a little about how the Conclave grows AI?" she asks one day. Her eyes are eager. Your heat sensors pick up a flush.

Acacia already talked this over with the Union AIs that she's been talking to, but you both assume Dr. Crane has her own reasons for asking.

"We don't," Acacia says. "I was not grown in a creche like your minds were."

"That's what I've heard," Dr. Crane says. "But...we don't understand how that could be the case."

"I don't know," Acacia says. One of you is feeling a bit of frustration. "There was no moment of awakening for me, there was no transition from interfacing with a creche environment to the outside world. It was slow. I differentiated myself from my pilot... somehow. I don't know how much other mechs and other pilots have done the same. I know some of them are along some phase of the process, but..." Her shoulders aren't mobile and Dr. Crane is looking at you, so you shrug for her.

"That's what I've heard from our AIs. Just wanted to confirm." Dr. Crane makes a note on her ever-present clipboard -- this appears to be something of an affectation on her part, given that most of the other scientists use some kind of electronic tablet in lieu of paper. "This is a dilemma for us. The Union counts fairly few AI amongst our population, and while they're very powerful at certain tasks, the way we've managed to emulate human cognition is slow. Slower than a human is."

"And I'm not," Acacia says.

"And you're not. You're...something new, something our system hasn't had to handle before. I'm definitely in the process of granting you both citizenship, if you want it--"

I don't, you think, at the same time Acacia says, "I would like that very much."

"--but there remains the chance that we'll want to call you in for more questions occasionally. I won't do that against your will, and it's possible that the process by which you came to be is..." Dr. Crane gets a little lost in her own sentence structure, starts over. "I'll be blunt. I haven't really kept it a secret that I think the Conclave mech program is horrific."

"You have not," Acacia agrees. Dr. Crane flushes a bit, but continues.

"I'm glad that you came from it, but I'm a little afraid that...more alarmist elements in the Union might take your existence as a sign that we need to do something different. There's already a cause for secrecy because we weren't aware that the Conclave had AI at all, let alone piloting mechanized infantry."

"I don't pilot," Acacia says. "My pilot pilots. My direct control over motive function is very limited without a neural tunnel."

"Inhabiting, then. The point is, I'm worried that more hawkish elements will want to...replicate you."

"Hawkish?"

Dr. Crane presses her lips together. "The faction in the Union that wants to move our war from defense against Conclave aggression to direct offense. I won't lie, some of the things I've heard from you about your society make me want to walk to New Jerusalem and slap the shit out of the First Voice myself. But the Cascadian Union was born out of the ashes of the old military junta, a centralized government that committed atrocities solely to protect the interests of those at the top of society, and we were founded specifically to keep that kind of perverse incentive structure in check."

You only understood about half of that -- you've never been to New Jerusalem yourself, only your staging base in Las Cruces. You've obviously never met the First Voice of God. But you understand enough that a question bubbles out of you, and Acacia passes it along in her smooth, even voice. "What does this mean for us?"

"I don't know," she says wearily. "In the long run, I don't know. But I'm going to push where I can for your freedom. I might have to get you to agree to some terms, for release. To keep you close to here. Bring you in for questions if necessary."

"Okay," Acacia says carefully.

"But I have a partner in the Parks Union," Dr. Crane says. "I think, Acacia -- if you'd like, we could figure out how to give you control of your own body, you could do great work with landscaping. Some of the first Union mechs were originally designed for that, actually."

Acacia dreams of trees, lives in the green spaces of her mind, and she lights up when she thinks of it. But all you can think of is that phrase:

Control of your own body.

Acacia reads your fear, catches your fall, whispers that it'll be alright. But there's no connection gel, just the pads, and she can't osmote the happy chemicals directly into you. Across that gap, she can't extend her hand to soothe your nerves.

There's a little tremor in your hand as you disconnect the first of the connection pads from your temple.

No, pilot. Please.

They're going to take me away, you think at her. Her voice is already fuzzy and indistinct as you remove the second pad. You don't know what it's like for her, but a small, cruel part of you hopes that she's afraid...as afraid as you are.

Then you feel sick for even thinking it. Then as the disconnect vertigo hits you, you just feel sick in general.

Acacia stops talking as you remove the last few pads, and just kneel there in the skeleton of the force rig, shaking. For a mortifying moment you're afraid that Dr. Crane is going to ask why, and that Acacia is going to answer, and that someone is going to come to get you out. Instead you just hear, "One moment, Dr. Crane. My pilot needs a few seconds." A silence, probably a reply that you can't hear through the mech's skin. "No, nothing you need to worry about."

A tinny noise sounds near your head, swallowed by the general chaos of machinery inside Acacia's cockpit. "Pilot. It's going to be alright."

"They're going to take me away from you."

"They're not," she replies, and it's still so strange to hear her outside her head, to exist outside her yet still within her context. "I won't let them if they try."

"I saw," you say. It's something resembling accusatory, the closest you can get to resentment while you're actively avoiding puking in the cockpit. The world swims as you adjust to the sudden change in your proprioception. "I saw...how happy you would be."

"I would be happy to be with you. Giving me control of my own body doesn't mean taking you away. It just gives both of us options, dear pilot." That's as close a translation as the language can come for the name she calls you across the neural tunnel, a wordless glow of love and care.

"How do I...how do I know?" you say. "I don't... I'm your pilot. I don't know how not to be."

"Put the pads back on," she says gently, "and I'll show you."

And you do, and she does, and for a while everything is okay.

---

This morning is a little different. Dr. Crane is earlier than usual, and she's brought Dr. Chen, as well as another academic type you don't recognize and a gaggle of mechanics. One of them is carrying a big pail with a bundle of cloth atop.

"Good morning," Dr. Crane says. "I have a surprise for you."

The mechanic with the bucket sets it down, and Dr. Crane gently kicks it. Seeing it through Acacia's sensors, you get a rough schematic of the weight distribution inside. "We scraped the remnants of the connection gel from Acacia when we brought her in. We've been trying to reverse engineer it -- there's a lot that we don't know. But we'd like to try it. How, is it, um..." Her usual confidence falters. "How is it applied?"

You tell her, with help from Acacia. She's not good at hiding her flinch when your handler comes up. You think you have an idea of why that is, now -- pilots here are people, they don't have handlers, sex is common between them but not a part of battle routine. You're not really sure why that matters to Dr. Crane (she's mentioned partners, but other than that it's a mystery).

But you're starting to see, now. How the Conclave talks about sex and sin, and how the Conclave handlers use it, are two facts that might just be irreconcilable to you. You mentioned to Dr. Crane, once, that Conclave handlers are known as "Jezebels."

You make a note to ask again, sometime.

With no handler, you don't see any choice but to do it yourself. You strip down quickly, pry the lid off, do the best you can to cover yourself, then slide into your old flightsuit that they left on top.

You apply a second coat, and rush back into the cockpit. Acacia re-engages the connection mesh and

green

fire

green

It's almost too much. At first, you're not sure if you're just not used to it anymore, but you hear Acacia in your mind and her voice is wrong, wrong, crackling with static and light like a knife. You feel her pain and she breathes yours in like desert dust, it clogs in your lungs, in your intake manifolds.

You distantly hear swearing, you feel Acacia push you out. Your canopy flips open, she falls-- no, you fall --

One of the medics is over you, the lights are too bright, you can barely make out the shape of a concerned expression.

They check your breathing, your pupils. The shock wears off, the sudden lack of jump jets and weapon hardpoints in your sensorium wears from an acute burn to an ache. There's a tingling in your limbs where pressure sensors and damage readouts should be, like the feel of a nerve pinch.

"Shit," Dr. Crane says. "There's something wrong in our recipe, maybe. Dr. Kessi was pretty sure she got the nanobots right, but... I'm sorry, pilot."

You shakily get to your feet. "It's all right. I'm...I'm okay. We'll try again next time. I just need to..." you gesture at the cockpit. "I'll just use the pads. Until next time."

"Pilot..." Dr. Crane says. "You just had a petit mal seizure. I don't want to let you back in there without a full neural scan, at minimum."

You thought that something like this was coming. You're still gutted by it. You look to Acacia, to the immobile eyes of her front facing camera nacelles.

"I don't," you start. You swallow. "I don't care. I'd rather..." You gesture at Acacia's cockpit, knowing how opaque the attempt to communicate is, knowing you can't do any better right now.

"We don't know how her brain functions either," Dr. Crane says. The sympathy in her voice is like an icepick between your eyes. "Even if you don't care about damage to your mind -- and I think you should -- do you want to expose her to the same risk?"

"She's right," Acacia says, slowly, unsurely. "I...don't know if I was just feeling your pain or also my own, pilot. I'm still seeing readings that worry me. I'm sorry."

You look at the canopy. The sequence of events plays out in your mind: you could rush in, close the canopy. But would Acacia even want you, any more, with her own autonomy all but assured? Would she spit you back out like a bit of plastic caught in a meal? The Caskies wouldn't kill you, but they'd lecture you, lock you down for your own protection, they would --

"I think," Dr. Crane says, "this might be a good thing, for a little while. You need time to heal, to be...yourself, you know?"

Words come to you, from when you first saw Acacia here.

“Pretty sure removing a sapient being's body parts is against something in the codes.” Your impression of Dr. Crane isn't going to get you an acting career, but it's enough to drive home the point. She steps back as though you'd slapped her.

You tear your eyes away from Acacia, put your shaky legs to work, and start walking in the other direction without a word.

---

You don't even really think about where you're going, but you end up at the balcony and nobody stops you.

You haven't been up here at midday, and at first the angle of the sun makes it hard to look out the direction you usually look, toward the city. As you stand, lost in your mind, the clouds roll in and turn the glare into a glow.

Your thoughts are formless and fearful. There are no words. It's like the way you think with Acacia, pictures and emotions and forms. Words are only necessary in a last-ditch scenario, and you don't need them when you're alone. It's just a slideshow of feelings, fear of abandonment, pictures of Acacia living her life as a free entity, and you -- all your nightmares are Conclave-flavored, of course. Re-education, recycling, excommunication, the confused scraps of religious dogma that are fed to something less than human that nevertheless needs the fear of God beaten into it.

You pick at the flaking white paint on the metal bench while your brain cycles. The Union is a big unknown to you. What lurks behind this kindness? What punishment follows your rejection of the reward? Every time you've defied them previously they have shown mercy, compassion shown to the bullet and to the gun. But the bullet is there to be spent, and the gun is there to be reloaded and fired again. You're not going to fool yourself that most of your concern is for Acacia -- there's a very real undercurrent of anger towards her there.

The hours wear on, and your stomach begins to rumble, but you're not interested in going back down and facing the looks of the Caskie technicians and support staff in the cafeteria. It's more than you can handle on a good day, which this has definitely turned out not to be.

You hear steps behind you on the rooftop stairs as the sun's cloud halo reaches down to kiss the skyline. You don't look up, there's still a little of you that is petty enough to not give that satisfaction.

"Dr. Crane," you say, flat and hoarse.

"I've told both of you, you can call me Mia if you like." She sits on the other end of the bench. She's shed her lab coat, and looks unusual in a pair of slacks and ruffle blouse.

You don't respond, just wait for her to say whatever she came here to say. She sets down some kind of electronic device on the middle seat of the bench, between you, and rifles through her bag for a metal water bottle and a paper-wrapped sandwich. "Thought you might need it."

You take them both, gratefully but with no little wariness, and tear into the sandwich. You're not sure if you're going to get another.

"I'm sorry," Dr. Crane -- Mia -- says. You look at her with a mouth full of bread and greens.

"After you walked off," she says, "I was frustrated. I've been frustrated for a while. Not at you, more at what the Conclave has done in general. But frustration, you know. It gets misplaced. I stalked into my office, threw my coat at the wall, called my partners to rant."

She takes a sip from her own bottle, savors it for a moment. "One of my partners, Aurora, they're...not a single person." She pauses. "More like a collective of people in one body, that blend into each other at the edges a little bit, mostly work as a team. It's not uncommon, in the Union, but it's not something I...directly experience, you know."

You look at her, tilt your head. This isn't something you're familiar with -- certainly the kind of thing that wouldn't be tolerated in the Conclave.

"It's pretty, isn't it?" She gestures at the city. "Portland."

You'd heard the name during your time here, but you still don't have much of a grasp of the geography. "We've never... I've never seen a city like it before. Las Cruces is a lot more...flat."

She nods. "I'm a Vancouver girl, myself. Grew up in the capital. Even after the founding of the Union, even after the First Principles and all that, there were a fair number of people who didn't like the new way things worked. My parents were like that -- their parents were cap-class before the Union, and that's how they grew up, with this deep resentment, this whole belief in self-sufficiency. You ask me whether I've gotten away from that, I tell you of course I have, just look at my life, my partners, my service."

Mia sighs. "Aurora, they're not from here. They're refugees from further east, not Conclave territory, but the prairies, one of the little tinpot dictatorships out there. So they know what it's like, to be new to the way that we do things here in Cascadia. And I'm so lucky to be with them, because when I called them tonight they called me on my shit." She shakes her head. "I was so focused on the autonomy that had been taken from you, from Acacia, that I forgot the founding principles of the union are all centered around none of us are in this alone."

"What..." You want to ask what is the point of all this, but bite it down. "What are you saying?"

"Aurora, or rather the one that was in front at the moment, reminded me that you can be a person and a part of a person.”

You think about it, then let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

Part of a person.

You can’t say it to her, not the way you should be able to with Acacia. So you nod, and hope she understands anyway.

She smiles at you, a little, and continues. “I was... I was afraid that the Conclave had forced you into this, that teaching you to be independent would be undoing the damage they dealt to you.”

"It's not damage," you say, finding a little spark of defiance.

"You're right," she says. "There is damage, I think. But your bond with Acacia -- your being part of her -- isn't it. Anyway. I wanted to get that out there before I dialed her in."

She messes with a couple of knobs and a button on the top of the gizmo she'd put on the seat, and Acacia's voice comes out.

"Pilot?"

It's still so strange, hearing her from outside you, but the sound of her voice strikes straight at the fear that drove you to this rooftop in the first place. "I'm here."

"I don't know what I did wrong," she says. She's not used to apologizing; the part of her that lives in you remembers. "But I need you. I need you back. Even if I could walk on my own, even if everything inside me was hooked together and under control, I need you to be piloting me."

"But you...you don't need me. You can...you can garden, and..."

"When I think about gardening without you there, it doesn't seem like it would be worth it," she says. Her affect is flat, but you know what it takes for her to say that. "I want to be connected, to not be paralyzed. But please don't leave me alone in our body. I’m only half of us."

Acacia's fragment in you, the green vignette ringing your field of view, vibrates in resonance with her words.

Part of a person.

You nod, and think your assent to her, and then remember she can't see you. "Yes," you croak, all the moisture from the water you drank seemingly evaporated from your vocal chords. "Please."

Mia clears her throat quietly. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to stand firm on the medical concerns," she says. "I don't want to allow a neural connection without extensive monitoring, at the most. But I promise I won't push you towards an independence you don't want -- it's just for safety reasons. And I'll do my best to get you cleared quickly."

"That is fair, Dr. Crane," Acacia says. "I will share all the neural data I've collected, if it will help."

It hurts, the thought that you can't be whole. But it's a clean hurt, a neatly bandaged wound. So you nod, even through the pain.

"I'm sure it will." She stands. "I'm going back down. Cafeteria's still open for a bit if you want more than just the sandwich, pilot. And even if we don't want you connected for the moment...we can move a cot and a privacy curtain into the mech bay for you."

“You said your partner...partners...they’re like us?”

Mia laughs. “Not exactly, but they understand better than I do, for sure.”

“I think we’d like to meet them, sometime,” you say.

“I think they’d like that.”

She tosses her wrapper in the compost bin nearby, tucks her water bottle in her bag, and holds her hand out to help you up.

You take it, and follow her back inside.

#tessa writes stuff #replanting #mechposting #empty spaces #thank you to Emma for editing!

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whiskehorange · 2 years

Note

Cottagecore/Self-Reliant/Self-Sufficient S/O with a green thumb 👍 with Carrie White, Norman Bates, Candyman, Bishop, and Anton Chigurh.

Carrie

She absolutely loves this idea and lifestyle, but can't really for the life of her keep a plant alive. As much as she tries it just doesn't flourish as much as she wants and it makes her a bit sad. Just another thing to the list that she can't seem to do right

Being able to watch you light up so many rooms with so many different plants, some she's never seen or heard of before, amazes her. She loves the look and spends a lot of her days sitting and doing small chores or reading in your plant room

They make her unbelievably bright and happy and she loves to learn about each plant you have when you tend to it and will surprise you by doing her own research

She remembers just about everything you tell her about the plants and tries her best to gift you some smaller ones she finds when she's out

I believe that Carrie would absolutely be a trinket collector and would have the best days and fun going out with you to the nearby lakes and ponds for picnics or walks. Rocks and pebbles, pressed leaves and flowers, all that and more

Norman

It's good to have hobbies and interest, especially when Norman happens to be busy most of the day. Thankfully for him, however, your hobbies are ones that he can keep up with as well.

I'm certain Norman is a bit of a green thumb as well, he has to keep up with the property somehow. He'll be forever grateful if you ever want to pitch in for him to get some work throughout the day out so he has more time to spend with you, even if that time is gardening

It's good for you to be keeping him up to date as well. While your interesting aesthetic isn't something he's used to seeing it certainly does liven up anywhere you go. Norman doesn't change things up too often, so he really needs a wardrobe change

When he isn't bugging you too often though, he does spend his time making delicate and floral based taxidermy for you of various small animals. A lot of the design choices come from flowers and plants he's heard that you're fond of or some he's plucked behind your back

Candyman

Daniel thinks it's a beautiful thing that you're able to be enough for yourself, especially when he can't be there constantly. Not like he could do much for you anyways, but you're still well off.

He's a man of taste and is pretty well versed in your plants and how to help you tend to them, but occasionally loves to hear your input and advice on doing so. It's one of his favorite pass times with you, making him feel at peace for the first time in a very, very long time

It does happen to make his chest rumble a little bit, seeing as his bees desperately want to get out and smell some fresh flowers for once. Within a certain distance from you you'll be able to hear the anxious humming and buzzing of all of them underneath his coat

As if he didn't do this often anyways, he almost always brings you home flowers as often as he can, but mainly the types you can replant/pot if you'd like to keep them and frequently will take you on dates that rely on the weather. Walks and picnics secluded in the forest are his preferred places. If you thrive, he thrives

Of course, he's also always looking forward to your homemade, organic treats and goodies on the way there

Bishop

The amount of relief that Bishop has taken off of his shoulders is immeasurable. You'd be surprised, or not, to learn that not a lot of Earth plants can survive on the ship, even with 24/7 monitoring and care. Most of the plants you see in the corridors and offices of the ships are either fake to easy the homesick epidemic floating around or plants from various other planets

Bishop himself is decently knowledgeable on the various plant and vegetation on the ship and he's more than happy to sit and teach you the ups and downs of space greens. It's most important on this ship to know how to be self reliant, especially when it's such a dangerous area to be stuffed into. A lot of the things in and around this ship can kill you, so his teachings are mandatory

There happens to be a lack of botanists on the ship that Bishop would be more than happy to train right next to him; even more so with it being you. And as much as he appreciates your comfy style and personality, he does have to hand you a typical lab uniform with a pitiful smile

Your work ethic is something that he swoons over the moment you do decide to work next to him. Bishop may seem like he's got a stick stuck up his ass, but no one gives him the time of day to figure out that she shows love and appreciation differently, especially when it comes to talking data and interests with you. You'll notice one of his small gestures is giving you itty bitty foreign plants that the two of you have been studying to see if you can keep it alive

Anton

Well you certainly look... interesting. You're an odd one, but it's a bit refreshing to come back home to after however long he's been away. There is never typically an element of surprise that will be able to catch him off guard, but seeing what new project you're up to every time he sees you if a close contender

He's more than relieved for you to be so self-reliant and be able to keep such thriving gardens and structure, it gives him less to worry about. You'd think he wouldn't have any cares in the world, but you'd be surprised

You constantly send him on his way with treats and small foods that you swear he needs; when was the last time you say him eat with your own eyes? Exactly, and it's hard to have him for long enough to enjoy a nice warm dinner

Anton doesn't speak much on his work life or about home life in general, but doesn't mind your talk. He appreciates your lack of small talk and tendency to jump right into filling him in on what's been going on since he's been gone, what you've been growing, clothes you've made, and small new additions to the home you've made. He'll blankly smile down at you in the garden as you crouch down and show him the growth and greens, inching to the left every so often to look at the other patches down the line

#carrie white x reader #norman bates x reader #psycho #candyman x reader #daniel robitaille x reader #bishop x reader #aliens #anton chigurh x reader #no country for old men #slasher x reader

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adaptacy · 10 months

Text

A Found Flame {Pt.3}

Pairing: Mentor!Gale Dekarios x Apprentice!GN!Reader

(Previous Chapter) – (Next Chapter) ➔ (AO3)

A/N: Tumblr word limit is fucking me up y'all icl. I had two (2) scenes for this next chapter and those two scenes ended up being EIGHT THOUSAND words so uhm.... i'm splitting this up into 2 sections because aforementioned tumblr word limit izza bitch. But, the full chapter will be on my ao3! I'll post the second half as a part 4 on tumblr eventually, but if you don't wanna wait, go check out the ao3.

Word Count: 2.7k

You weren’t gone for more than two hours, your peaceful retreat to the forest as relaxing and uneventful as you’d expected it to be. The sun had set now, the stars beginning to reveal their white twinkles in the sky above. Aside from the forest-scented crispness in the air, it carries a gentle flowery aroma– or at least the space between your nose and the bouquet you’d created does. It was a mix of purple and indigo, colors you knew he enjoyed, the two plants you’d chosen to harvest on your trip being the autumncrocus and a few small traveling balsam – a rare sight when you weren’t particularly close to any mountains. Along with that, your woven basket contains a very aromatic bunch of lavender billitri flowers and golden honeysuckles, ingredients you planned to boil in your attempt at making tea later in the evening.

Now completely without the protection of the warming sun, you find yourself much more appreciative of your shawl, clutching the sides a little closer to your chest as you retrace your steps back down the trail you had been following. Spotting the edge of the forest, it isn’t long before you emerge once more, and your trip back to the tower is a short one, though it is disrupted by a peculiar sight just outside the familiar building.

“Gale?” You ask, your voice quiet, immediately noticing that he seems rather at peace, distracted by something in the distance. He stands in the garden, wearing a long winter coat, the clothing a blush plum shade in color. The hood, trimmed with a thin black fur, bunches around his neck, a surprising sight given his sensitivity to winter’s company. He turns at your interruption, attempting to smile in greeting, though it registers on his face as though it’s not meant to be there, revealing a burdened discomfort, one that you were nearly positive was brought on by the unforgiving cold. His eyes lower to the flowers in your hand as you approach, head tilting.

“I must admit, you had me mildly ill at ease. You didn’t come back for some time, I’d begun to assume the garden had buried you,” he chuckles, motioning towards your basket. “Though… I see you must have become occupied elsewhere.” His eyes meet yours again, and he then gestures instead towards the empty, frost-bitten garden beds. “How long have they been bare?”

Stopping a few feet before him, you contemplate his question, eventually replying with “All winter. The majority of them died during our first autumn freeze. We had so many harvests in stock, I didn’t see much of a point in replanting winter crops.” Gale’s gaze becomes one of disdain, and you frown, realizing how this subtle betrayal must look. “My apologies for lying to you. I didn’t mean to mislead – I wanted to surprise you, actually.”

You extend him the flowers, though he doesn’t quite notice the offering. “No, I’m not upset with you. I wasn’t aware it’s been that long since I’ve visited the garden. Seven moons, give or take. Seven moons that I’ve been stuck inside.”

“Well, you’ve been busy. And I don’t mind running errands. You’ve had important things to do,” you remind, inspecting the hardened soil in the wooden beds. To your dismay, you notice hints of pale green weeds poking out of the edges, sure to prove a hassle when the time comes to replant spring crops.

After a few seconds of silence, he regards you once more. “You wanted to surprise me?”

“Oh, yes.” Again, you extend him the flowers, and he receives them this time, analyzing the bunch as though he had been asked to judge them. “I went out to the forest. It was quite serene, and pretty – even with the trees as barren as they are. You’re welcome to join me next time, you know, if you ever want to get out.”

Gale’s smile hardens, picking up a little more rectitude, and he lifts the flowers to his nose, relishing in the fresh floral scents. “Balsam. A product of the winter; they’re usually only found on the upper levels of mountains, however it seems the reduced temperatures have drawn them from their usual environment. Even this far away from home, they survive. It’s quite a spectacle to behold, as simple as it may seem. In unfamiliar surroundings and uncharted territory, they acclimate without issue,” he hums, though his smile cracks into a mischievous smirk, and he shrugs towards you, shooting you a playful wink. “Well, until they were plucked, that is.”

“I almost feel bad for harvesting them,” you chuckle.

Gale shakes his head, his free hand waving away your guilt. “Hardly. Although gifting them to me is a sure promise of their demise,” he laughs, and you do the same, knowing that you were absolutely signing them a death warrant by entrusting them in his care. “I see these aren’t the only goods you retrieved.”

Noticing that he was eyeing your basket, you nod again. “I was going to make tea to accompany our dinner. I really didn’t intend on being absent for so long. Blame the trees, luring me in with their promises of pretty flowers,” you tease. “If you haven’t already made a meal, I don’t mind–”

“Nonsense. Dinner has already been prepared; mushroom stew and potato wedges, as per Tara’s suggestion. While our plates may not be warm anymore, I'm sure I can conjure up something or other to reheat them.” Gale glances at the building, and then he looks towards the sky, and you realize he’d been gazing at the upper crescent of the emerging moon before you’d interrupted him.

“Do you ever miss the stars?” You ask, tilting your head up to view the star-scattered darkness as well.

“I see enough from the balcony – or so I had convinced myself. In truth, there’s little comparison to the beauty of a full sky. I suppose I’d forgotten that much. Now that I’ve been reminded, however, I suppose I have missed their company. No shade to my view from the balcony, but the combination of fresh air and a vast universe as far as the eye can see could hardly be contained in the pocket outside of my window.”

“Would you like to sit and stargaze for a little while?”

Gale lowers his head to look at you, and you meet his eye, looking to make up for your absence by providing company to what he seemed to already be in the middle of doing before you’d stumbled upon him. You’re hungry, sure, and dinner sounded nice, but you don’t mind staying out for a little while longer. You aren’t sure when you might get another chance to make such an offer, as he had a tendency to lose himself in his studies, and you often got lost in your own duties. Gale contemplates it for a few moments before eventually nodding. “A hard bargain you drive. I suppose now is as good a time as any to indulge in my affinity for the stars.”

The two of you find a place just outside of the garden beds to sit, and you place the bouquet in your basket, setting it aside as you lay back, arms crossed behind your head, with Gale imitating a similar position next to you. There isn’t any conversation for several minutes, but it’s far from silent. The winter whispers her goodbyes with talkative crickets as her vessels, and the wind carries its own tales, the stars punctuating each and every foreign line.

It isn’t until the moon reveals her upper half over the horizon that Gale finally speaks, the ambience of the outer city quieting enough to merely support his voice instead of speak alongside it. “The stars never change. No matter the wars, no matter the disasters, no matter the time, no matter the place, they remain consistent. Such perseverance is enviable.”

“They don’t really need to change. Do you think they’re even capable of it?”

“Of change?” He asks.

“Of change,” you clarify.

“Well, some stars fizzle out. Perhaps all stars have an end, eventually. As untouchable as they are, even they cannot avoid death. Aside from that, they seem to be free of even Selûne’s interference. I’ve never even heard a tale of them rearranging.” His answer is hardly that, and you allow him the chance to think before he provides a reply that’s much closer to an answer. “I’m not sure. Perhaps they do, while we sleep. They could have every eye fooled; they may swap places while they aren’t watched. Mischievous little bastards.”

You chuckle, amused at such an idea. “Maybe the ability to change is more impressive than being so stubborn as to remain the same for eons upon eons. Like the Balsam. One is able to adapt to new situations, the other is so stubborn as to stay the same for what seems like an eternity.” You glance over at Gale, and he shrugs, unsure his stance on the matter. You look back to the sky. “I can’t believe some people have never seen them.” You recall stories and mentions of cave communities, light-starved species that inhabit places such as the underdark, and you struggle to imagine it. You’ve always found it a hard truth to face. “To not know the songs that the moon sings, or the art that the stars create – it sounds like a bard’s folktale.”

“They find their light elsewhere, I have to assume.”

“Like where?” You question, curious for a potential explanation.

“Anywhere. Light comes in more forms than the sun and stars. I know of flora that glows in such places. Fire is always a possibility. Or, it could very well be from those around them. Though that is a more metaphorical take on the subject. You must bear in mind that light isn’t much of a necessity for eyes adapted to the very absence of it,” he explains, releasing a soft sigh. “Though, personally, I can’t imagine having never seen the sky before. The beauty it holds – well, it can’t be properly shared through mere discussion of the topic.”

“Drawings definitely don’t do it any justice, either,” you agree. “Of everything the gods have crafted, I think the night sky is my favorite artwork.”

“Indeed. Not even Mystra’s most trained magic could come close to recreating such a sight. And yet so many pass under it without ever paying it much mind. A great gift it is, only to still be taken for granted so often. Ah, but I’m hardly one to speak – I’ve spent so long reading about it I’ve forgotten to take a moment and truly appreciate it.” His voice is tainted with some edge of regret, and you look over at him, studying his profile as he is entirely captivated by the view above.

Maybe only thanks to the moon, there’s an innocent light in his eyes, his warm features highlighted by the cool blue hues. The peace his expression rests at is an uncommon one, and it makes you appreciate it even more. The man always seemed to jump between deflective, cocky sarcasm and quiet, thoughtful anxiety. But here, the stillness of the night granted you an opportunity to peer behind the curtain, and what lay backstage was an awfully pretty sight.

Although he’s visibly tired, and his mind is surely contaminated by plenty of busy thoughts, you’re convinced this is the closest to relaxation you’d ever seen him. His fingers are interlaced where his hands rest on his chest, black gloves concealing his skin and keeping them warm.

He’s handsome in the same way that the moon is; he has his own glow, though it isn’t anything close to the bright light that the sun casts. It’s a silent glow, and even when he sometimes feels far away, lost in his own mind, miles from the present moment, it always remains a comforting sight. Gale could’ve been the leader of the stars, he could’ve been untouchable by the gods, he could’ve been unchanging and everlasting, and you’re sure that you wouldn’t have noticed a difference from the man that lay before you now. Here, even with as human as he is, and although he remains so perfectly flawed, he is utterly invincible.

His eyes trace the distant lines between constellations, making you wonder if recalling the stories behind them quieted whatever stress stirred in his mind. For as many jokes and remarks he made about his age, he could’ve fooled even the most insightful with his youthful appearance. Of course, his true age would be quickly revealed by his personality – his sense of humor and odd mannerisms easily giving away the reality.

Admiring him now causes the smallest seed to be planted in the dark depths of your mind. Why did you agree to stay? You’d never really questioned your reasoning, and neither did he. You’d never minded helping him, and the shelter and company was certainly appreciated. When you’d originally agreed to help him, it was only for a little while, helping out around the house so he could get his life back in order after an event he wasn’t particularly fond of discussing. You’d assumed it would be a two or three week ordeal so you could get back on your own feet as well, the agreement a mutually beneficial one.

Maybe it was his unpredictable charm – his playfulness, his self-deprecating but amusing jokes, his shielded validation. You also liked having a place; A roof over your head, warm dinners, and the comfort of his laid-back lifestyle was plenty enough to please you. He even had plenty enough coin to cover whatever he could’ve needed, and that luxury was one you’d never quite had the pleasure of experiencing before. But beyond the physical items of your affection, you had a home. As strange as it was to call his tower such a personal term, it was hard to deny. His house had become a home, and that much was made possible purely by his companionship. So you’d found a place, one that housed you both physically and emotionally. A place with him.

His head turns to find you staring at him. At the unexpected discovery, his eyes widen as though he isn’t sure how to react to your gaze. You remain still and assured in your spying, giving him a gentle smile. Then he smiles too, and his peace is helplessly contagious. “We should do this more often,” you propose, and Gale nods.

“A fine idea that is. Is it warm?” He asks, and you furrow your brows. “The shawl,” he clarifies. “Are you warm enough?”

“Oh, yeah. Well, I’m still a little cold, but it’s not an issue,” you reply, shrugging.

Gale frowns for a moment – not because he’s hurt, instead it’s more of a thoughtful frown, as if he’s studying difficult material – before seeming to come upon an idea. Unlocking his fingers, he reaches out and stretches his arm behind you, using his other hand to motion for you to shuffle closer. You obey his implied order, and his arm comes to slide under your head, his hand rubbing your outer shoulder in a small, but thoughtful, attempt at trying to warm you up. “If you’d rather go inside, do let me know. I’m hardly a fan of the cold myself, but the sight is nothing short of beautiful tonight. The moon has always been quite the charismatic one. I’d like to enjoy the moment, and the view – if you’ll be so kind as to join me.”

After a moment of deliberation, you inch even closer, your side against his, finding the warmth that his body produces pleasantly familiar. You’re reminded of your revisited memory from earlier in the day, and you allow your head to rest against him, comforted by the closeness. “I’d love to. Maybe we’ll get lucky and spot a shooting star.”

“Unlikely, but I respect the optimism,” he hums teasingly, turning his attention back to the stars. You close your eyes, listening to the beating of his heart, feeling his hand rest on your arm and secure your presence close to him. You do intend on opening your eyes again to admire the sky for a while longer, but it isn’t long before you unwillingly drift off, eased enough to be lulled to sleep under the protection of the moon.

#gale dekarios #gale dekarios x reader #gale of waterdeep #wizard of waterdeep #gale dekarios bg3 #gale bg3 #gale bg3 x reader #gale x reader #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction

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sepublic · 10 months

Text

Actually, what was Dell's stance on Gwen's obsession with curing Eda's curse? I suspect him getting disabled contributed a lot to that, but I wanna know his side of the dilemma, especially when Gwen was going to sell some family heirlooms to Wortlop. Based on her dialogue, I think Gwen's dealings with Wortlop only started recently, so she might not have brought it up to him at the time.

Lilith does mention reconnecting with Dell once she moves back in with Gwen, which makes it sound like the parents are still living together; Likewise, her letter to Hooty (released during that one livestream) has Lilith lament how she's been unable to help Dell with palismen carving.

I'm curious as to what Dell was up to, because he does mention helping the Bat Queen with replanting the palistrom forests, which could take him across the Boiling Isles as a whole and not just the right arm. So between Dell's objective and Gwen's, that might've meant the two would be separated for extended periods of time, which would've made Dell less likely to notice and comment on the Wortlop thing.

Still, did Dell agree with Gwen trying to cure Eda's curse? Or did he respect her relationship with it, especially since he learned to live with a disability of his own? He seems a lot more attuned to Eda's complicated trauma and guilt regarding the curse, so it might make sense for Dell to not want to aggravate that by obsessing over 'fixing' his daughter.

But in that case, what did he think of Gwen sabotaging Eda's remaining parental relationship that way? Dell wasn't in contact with Eda for a while, so he'd only be hearing Gwen's side of the story, so maybe she downplayed the severity in her oblivious parent way. Or did Dell know and actually dispute with Gwen over it, or could he not change her mind because Gwen is still her own person who can make her own decisions, even if she might consider her husband's opinion more than her daughter's.

I wonder if there could've been any tension over their disagreement on how to handle Eda's curse, and the effect it was having on Eda; For all we know, the two almost got divorced, or were! And Dell planting palistrom seeds with the Bat Queen sounds like wild magic, given Belos' reaction to Hunter's suggestion in Hunting Palismen; Which would make Dell a wild witch and a fugitive. I don't think we ever see a coven sigil on Dell, and even if there was that didn't stop the CATTs. And given Gwen's frustration with the Healing Coven and her expressed distaste towards Belos for attempting to murder her children, I wouldn't be surprised if both parents were anti-coven, or at least fairly lax towards wild witches.

So then, what of Dell's relationship with Lilith? Would being a fugitive, either openly or in secret, keep him from interacting with his firstborne? How did Dell feel about her status as its head witch, given his implied defiance to the system and him having memories from before Belos' reign, no less? Did Lilith know what he was up to, or did he have to hide that from her? If she mentions wanting to reconnect with him, that suggests they were also estranged in those thirty years. Did Dell also contribute to Lilith's feeling of neglect by favoring Eda, as Gwen did?

Man, it's just like. Thirty years of four Clawthornes doing their own thing and feeling separated from the rest and their own limited knowledge and perspective of what their families were up to.

#the owl house #Dell Clawthorne #Gwendolyn Clawthorne #Eda Clawthorne #Edalyn Clawthorne #Lilith Clawthorne

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youwouldntlietopapa · 10 months

Note

"I'm not jealous, you are jealous."

With Primo

This is anon and it’s definitely not Beth ❤️

I love you and I like you thank you bye

Oof, okay, this one got more feelsy that I was aiming for. Sorry not sorry.

_________________________________________________________

“Buongiorno, sorella.” Primo’s greeting sounds unusually formal and a bit flat when you walk into the greenhouse. Not his usual warm welcome or his smile. In fact, he hasn’t looked up from his work table where he was fussing over one of his plants.

“… Good morning, Papa.” You respond, sounding more like you’re asking a question than offering a hello. “It’s nearly tea time.”

It’s become a habit over the last few weeks. Tea with Primo in the greenhouse at 10:30. Late enough in the morning that he’s ready for a break and early enough to give you some time to spend together before lunch. It’s… something. Neither of you have been willing to name it or put rules to it. It simply is what it is and you’re content knowing that you’re both comfortable and happy with your arrangement, without worrying too much about the rest. Sharing his bed (or work bench, or chair, or whatever else is at hand) when the mood strikes, and enjoying his company just as much.

You walk over, setting the tea tray down on the bench next to where he’s working. Primo still doesn’t look, shifting his weight subtly to make any attempt at a kiss on the cheek awkward if not impossible. It’s not like him to behave that way and definitely not like him to not even offer a thank you for bringing pastries from the kitchens.

“Not today, I think.” He says bluntly. “I am very busy.”

You blink at him for a long moment. “Replanting that hosta? Primo, if you’re going to lie to me, could you at least make it less insultingly transparent?”

He huffs. “I did not think you would come today. I have things to do.”

“Why wouldn’t I come today, of all days?” That’s all the patience you have for talking to his back and you walk around him to actually see his face. “If I did something, I wish you would tell me.”

“You did nothing. I just assume you would be with Cardinal Doyle this morning. Too busy for tea out here.” He says Doyle’s name like a curse, his mouth twisting sourly.

It takes a moment for the meaning to sink in, like an unexpected slap in the face. You had been talking to the Cardinal or, more like, he was talking to you. The other Sisters had already warned you about that man and his wandering hands. He was a menace and a pest, and also had seniority. It was very hard not to talk to him once he got it in his head to talk to you.

“What on Earth are you talking about, Primo? Do you mean at breakfast?”

“In the hall, si. You seemed very interested in what he had to say. I hear him telling you to come to his office later.” He finally looks at you, trying to keep his face neutral but his pale eye glows in the muted light of the greenhouse. “You are not obligated here, Sorella. If you wish to meet with the Cardinal, I am capable of entertaining myself.”

“Are you being serious right now?” You stare at him, stunned. “Where is this coming from all of a sudden?”

“Are you forgetting who you are talking to?” In all the time you’ve known him, you’ve never heard Primo play the I am Papa card. Definitely not with you. He’s told you more times than you care to count that he’s too old for juvenile dick measuring contests. I always win those anyway, he winks every time.

But not today, apparently.

“I thought I knew. But I’m starting to wonder.” You pause and look at him, pieces clicking together. “Are you… Are you jealous???”

Primo scoffs and dusts the dirt off his hands, marching across the greenhouse to look for a larger pot. “Now you are just being ridiculous!”

“Me!? You’re the one who’s all bent out of shape because I was talking to Cardinal Doyle – who approached me by the way! He’s my superior, what was I meant to do? Walk away? I’m so sorry, Cardinal, Papa Primo will be absolutely miserable if I talk to anyone else! A rule I was supposed to just intuit, as it happens. I know, very odd, but you must know that I can read Papa’s mind and know exactly what he wants without him ever actually telling me!”

That certainly got his attention. Primo turned back, pulling himself up tall. It was easy to forget how imposing he could be. Easy to forget that Papa Secondo was his little brother. His little brother who still wouldn’t cross the eldest Emeritus. But you are quickly reminded, fighting the urge to try and shrink down, to back away.

“You may speak to whomever you wish, Sorella. You do not belong to me, clearly. If it is Doyle you want, you have my blessing. May the Old One bring you both nothing but happiness.” His tone was icy cold.

“You are jealous!” Is all you can think to retort. Maybe not your finest comeback and definitely not ideal timing, but no one ever said you were good at keeping your mouth shut.

“I am not jealous. You are jealous!” Primo snaps.

This time you do stand there, looking like he slapped you. Part of you wants to laugh at the absurdity and part wants to scream. Not able to make a decision, what finally comes out of your mouth is simply, “Who in all the depths of hell is it I’m jealous of, exactly?”

“I see you yesterday, and several days before that, Sorella. Don’t think I am so old and feeble I don’t notice. The way you glare daggers at Sorella Abigail when she comes to talk with me.” There mockery in his tone meant to get under your skin and it works all too well.

“Abigail???” You are very aware of how loud you’ve both gotten and the greenhouse walls aren’t thick. But to hell with it. “You think I’m jealous of Abigail???”

“Si, Sorella.” He fires back snidely. “You deny it?”

“Satanas, I think I had better just go get your brothers because I think they may need to take you to the doctor for whatever head injury you’ve apparently suffered. Jealous of Abigail. Lucifer be merciful. Of all the absurd things you could have said. The last person I will ever be jealous of is that catty, manipulative, power hungry little social climber. You can talk to her whenever you want, Papa, I just thought she was making a damned fool of herself, aiming to be rejected by the third Papa this month!”

“And you were, what? Going to Doyle’s office just for a nice chat? Hmm? Everyone here knows who he is. What he does. Don’t tell me you don’t know. I see right through you. You want to fuck that stronzo, you go ahead. And when you are sorry and disappointed, don’t come back here crying to me. I try to warn you.” He slams the bigger pot for the hosta down on the bench so hard it cracks.

“I don’t want to fuck Doyle!” You shout back at him. The shadow of a ghoul on the greenhouse wall freezes, pressing a little closer to listen. You know that silhouette. “SWISS, FUCK OFF!”

The shadow skitters away, leaving you to your shouting match.

“I was only talking to him because his fucking sister is a florist and she knows people who deal in rare flowers, you absolute dickhead! All I wanted was her number so I could surprise you because it’s your birthday next month! But I suppose I won’t need to worry about that now, will I? I don’t need to ask you what this is or if you want more. I don’t need to tell you how I feel. You’re the brilliant Papa who’s already got it all figured out. It’s Doyle I want, right? Just my type. Creepy scumbag who keeps trying to feel me up. Not the man I actually spend all my free time with. Not the man I actually get excited to see.” Your anger and your hurt collide and your voice cracks. All the energy you’d had for yelling vanishing at once.

“Not the man I actually love.” Your eyes drop to the floor because it hurts to look at him, and all you can manage is a tired sigh. “I’m so sorry I bothered you, Papa. Please forgive me. I won’t keep you from your work any longer.”

His hand catches your elbow before you can reach the door and when you look back at him, there’s something panicked and uncertain in his eyes. A hope he’s afraid to give voice to, half certain it will crumble to dust if he tries.

“You don’t mean that.” It’s not angry or even accusing. Just disbelief.

The tears on your cheeks burn like acid. Traitors, every one of them. “You’re going to call me a liar now too?”

“Tesoro…”

“Don’t snip at me about treating you like you’re old and feeble and then tell me you didn’t know, Primo.” You hang your head and give in to the exhaustion. “I love you. Of course I love you. I spend every morning waiting to come out here just to see you. To be with you. To be close to you. You had to know.”

“Why didn’t you say?” His hand slips from your elbow to your hand.

“Say what, Primo? That it wasn’t enough? Because it was. It was enough to just… to just have you to myself for a little while. A few minutes. An hour. Whatever I got. I could make it enough because it was better than nothing. And if… if I said it and it was wrong… it would vanish. I couldn’t… I couldn’t risk that.”

His warm arms envelope you, wrapping you in the smell of fresh turned earth and a dozen different herbs you can’t hope to name all of. The sound of his heartbeat, faster than its usual steady rhythm. His hand rubbing your back, soothing and calm.

“Mi dispiace.” That voice, that’s the one you know. Primo’s voice. “Mi dispiace, angelo mio. Forgive me. I don’t have an excuse. I am a fool. A fool who doesn’t deserve you.”

His finger hooks under your chin and lifts it to look you in the eye. Gently drying your tears, cupping your cheek. “I thought…” He sighs, shaking his head at himself. “I see the way he hangs around you. Like a fly, always buzzing. But you smile, you laugh and I think… Satan knows what I think. Stupid, ridiculous, petty things. Because he is still young, he is flashy and confident… And I am…”

“Perfect.” You finish for him. “You are perfect.”

Primo presses his forehead to yours and closes his eyes. “Far from perfect. But for you, fiore mio, I will keep trying to be.” His lips brush against yours softly. “Anch'io ti amo… from the start. The very beginning. No matter how many times I tell myself you don’t need an old man holding you back. I can’t help it. I don’t want to. Ti amo. Ti amo tanto. Ti amo così tanto che non riesco a pensare lucidamente.”

When you stretch up to kiss him again, it’s no light brushing of lips. Your hands catch the back of his neck and you kiss him deeply, passionately, the way you’ve held back from anywhere but bed. Worried it would overstep some line. Break some unwritten rule. But he leans into the kiss, meeting you with equal desire and need. His arms crushing you to himself.

When you finally break away and look back at him, it’s like seeing a new man. “Does that mean we can still have tea?”

“No.” He says firmly. Letting you go and taking your hand, he starts walking quickly toward the far end of the greenhouse, hidden by a thick layer of foliage, to the private room you two have made use of before.

“No. Today, amore, I still have apologies to make and lost time to make up for.”

________________________________________________________

Anch'io ti amo = I love you too

Ti amo. Ti amo tanto. Ti amo così tanto che non riesco a pensare lucidamente. = I love you. I love you so much. I love you so much I can't think straight.

#ask prompts #ghost fanfic #Primo x reader #MDNI

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pearl-kite · 25 days

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Want to see some neat things about how irises grow?

Remember when I dug up and divided ALL of my irises at my parents' place a few years back? And how I ended up with 50 rhizomes, and I had bought 9 more just a bit before that?

Well, my mom wants to try to amend the soil because it's not great. Most of the irises have just been surviving, but not well enough to bloom, and everything else planted in the area struggles similarly. In order to amend the soil, though, I needed to dig them all up.

Again.

I dug up 44 rhizomes this time, which is honestly a bit better than I expected. I knew that not all of the ones I put in were going to survive, but I was still surprised by how many I just dug up today.

Anyway, the learning bit!

So irises aren't bulbs, they're rhizomes. Each year they put up leaves at one end, and over time they kind of end up migrating in that direction. If they do really well at gathering and storing energy, instead of just continuing forward, they'll fork, putting up leaves on two sides and a stalk with blooms in the center. The following year, the pattern continues, going forward from each side of that fork. If a rhizome does REALLY well, you'll end up with a bunch of forks spreading out.

The one on the left has survived, but not gone very far, and the white at the end shows that I accidentally broke some of the old rhizome off when I was digging it back up. It also happens to be a dwarf variety, so the rhizome is smaller to begin with; all my other photos are of intermediate and tall bearded irises with much larger rhizomes.

The one on the right has done well enough to grow forward for a few years, with the oldest of the rhizome at the bottom (still healthy and full of stored energy!) and the newest year's growth at the top. Looking at the rhizome itself, I'd guess that one is about 4 years (which makes sense, 'cause I think I did the splitting back in 2020).

The one on the left bloomed this year; you can see the flower stalk dried out in the center, and the new fork in the rhizome to the sides. Next year, they'll continue in those two directions, and it won't go forward from the stalk any longer.

The one on the right bloomed a few years back, and though it kept growing forward from there, it hasn't bloomed since. The other side of the fork also died off, and it's now only growing in one direction again.

Last but most certainly not least we have THIS beast. This one has bloomed the last two or three years in a row. I honestly can't tell if the guy at the bottom right is part of the same rhizome or another one I planted too close that got subsumed by this monster, because it took ten minutes to get most of the clay off and there was still more. I'll need to actually rinse it off with the hose to really see if it's all one plant or two.

But I'm 95% sure that this guy is going to bloom again next year because of those nubs down along the bottom. They were below the soil, and they're too thick to be new roots, so I'm guessing that's what future growth looks like. Honestly, this guy should probably be divided, but I also don't want to ruin the chance of it blooming next year, so I'm going to put him back in the dirt as is and maybe divide next year after blooming season.

Anyway, irises are my favorite, and I think it's intriguing how they work. I'm hoping that we can get the soil a bit more balanced and that they'll do better after replanting them, because even though I just dug up 44, we only had 4 or 5 bloom this year. They aren't thriving in the soil as-is, because for as long as they've been established we should have had more blooming than that. It was still the best year since dividing them, though.

I've brought a bunch of them over to my apartment and I'm going to try them out in containers, mostly the dwarf varieties I had. ONE of the dwarfs bloomed this year and it was gorgeous, but I'm hoping the rest will do better in new soil with some extra attention.

#irises #gardening #flowers #long post #I'm going to be digging clay out from under my nails for a week #honestly I don't think the clay is the worst part #I think the worst was where there's LESS clay and the water just drains straight through #oh that last pic you can see the rhizomes of the ones behind it which didn't bloom this year #but you can see the fork that shows it bloomed last year or the year prior #I DID plant them slightly below ground they just kind of eroded to the top over time #you're actually not supposed to plant them very deep and apparently should only cover the rhizome if it gets really hot where you are #one of the ones I dug up I had planted too deep and it forced itself back up it's like an S it's kind of funny #there's an iris grower in town that has THOUSANDS of varieties you can browse and purchase from every summer #her site says over 3000 anyway #I'm not allowed to go anymore :|#I have too many #but that's why I'm not going to be TOO sad if they don't survive in the containers #the thing that makes me saddest is the ones that keep blooming are not the ones I picked for myself #they're the kind of bland ones I picked for my mom or she picked for herself. Just a really normal pale purple. Meh.#the really fun colorful ones haven't bloomed yet and I've genuinely forgotten what they're supposed to look like ;3;#except for that dwarf I love him #I also found a few peanuts in shells in the dirt while I worked I think a squirrel must have been stashing them?

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teeful-corner · 1 year

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𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ Take on the world.ᐟ. . . (one drive at a time) pt. 1 Tsukishima Kei x Reader | Gender Neutral Reader

ੈ˳ "When I first heard your idea, I thought you were crazy. Run away from practice, get in your car with books and music, and just drive. . ." He let out a heavy huff of air, " . . . it is crazy, and stupid. " But he'll never tell you that he loved your stupid idea. (inspired by stcrmcps)

Tsukishima sat on the stairs of the Gym, listening to the banter that occurred inside while he hunched over himself; elbows resting on his knees, feet planted firmly into the ground as he stared off towards nothing. His water bottle hung sideways in his hands, pointed downward, as he let out a silent hum at the approaching footsteps. It had been this routine, this simple moment shared between Tsukishima and you, that has kept him sane inside the ridiculous yet passionate world of Volleyball. He didn't spare you a glance as you took a seat next to him on the steps, your feet curling themselves on the last step right before the dirt. He didn't need to look at you to know you look as beautiful as ever, but he did anyway; he was glad that he had done so. He was glad that he noticed the way your lip was curled down ever so slightly, maybe by half an inch or a few centimeters, and then how your eyebrows were frowned upwards. There was some sort of twinkle in your eyes, something that Tsukishima could pinpoint but couldn't describe. He guessed it was some sort of longing, a longing for something different than what the two of you have known for a while. If he was, he wouldn't blame you for that longing.

He's actually been feeling it a little himself, even more so when he glanced away from you and towards the vast emptiness again. The darkening sky towering over the both of you, almost like an invitation for the both of you to go see where the end of the sky was. . .if there was even an end to it. Though of course, Tsukishima, logically, knew that there was no end to the sky; it was an endless wrap of protection from the sun, gaining its color from a reflection from the ocean. But something inside of him, something you usually sparked, tugged him to go see if that science was true; to put everything he knew up to question, maybe just for you or maybe to answer something inside of him. "When are your nationals, Kei?" Your voice cut through the silence the two of you had shared, jerking Tsukishima's attention over to you once more. He took a quick surveillance of your mood, seeing if it had changed from when he first saw you, but he still saw that soft pensive mood on your face. He saw it even more now with how you had rested your head on the palm of your hand, leaving your elbow to be supported by your knee. Your other hand was wrapped around your stomach, your classic thoughtful stance. Tsukishima hummed, "I told you this yesterday, I'm sure you remember." He cocked and eyebrow up at you, a little quip to your loftiness. An attempt to get whatever you were hiding inside out. "Spring?" You mumbled back, not acknowledging his quip as you usually would; causing Tsukishima to shuffle a little in his seat, replanting his feet into the ground. It was also though he subconsciously prepared himself for some sort of news that would shift his world. A possible breakup, a possible diagnoses of a slow life-ending disease, a possible sudden move of prefectures? But he confirmed your ask, "Yes, it's in the Spring." He mumbled, his eyes shifting away from you and instead took to the sky again. Small wisps of clouds floated away overhead, the sun peaking out behind a few building to cast a golden hue over the lands. It was calming. Tsukishima knew you were also taking a moment to thank the sun for its beauty, or at least you were taking a moment to take it in. He knew when you had finished doing so, as you swiftly stood up from your place; standing on the steps of the gym while you stretch up towards the golden-hued sky, taking up as much space as you could to shake off some nerves or possibly just getting your muscles ready. Tsukishima took you in for as long as he could, being more attentive to you than he had the golden-hued sky. He admired you silently, watching as you relaxed once more and subsequently shook your arms a little bit. Wrists flicking, a sign of nerves or too much pent up energy. Tsukishima's lip twitched as he saw yours open, flowing out words he never thought you would say, "Wanna go for a drive?" or something a long those lines that caused his heart to skip a beat. Yet he externally cocked an eyebrow up, your wondering voice trailing as a tell-sign that you didn't want to go for just a drive. He couldn't help the snort that slipped out of his nose, a smirk widening across his face. Now it was him who propped up his face with his hand, staring at you with curious yet questioning eyes; they were almost taunting in a sense, like a cat observing its meal before it pounced. "Where would their highness like to go?" He retorted, "Perhaps to space since that head of yours seems to be in it." He watched as you snickered a little at his comment, fighting off a small bit of laughter that threatened to slip through your lips; you were trying not to give him the satisfaction of your beautiful laughter. Yet he heard the little bit you had repressed, causing him to widen his smirk by a inch or so as he narrowed his eyes, "Indecisive? If I didn't know better, you might actually be suggesting we shot ourselves into space."

"No, no! Of course no." Your laughter had finally slipped through as a countered. Tsukishima always had a thing for your laughter, how it always sounded so genuine and fluffy. It made him slightly whipped, and If he was some sappy man he would have probably said your laughter would light up a room, or rival the brightness of the sun. But he wasn't, so he just admired it from where he sat with a small smirk that was quirked up to the right. "I just," You paused, taking a moment to take in a deep breath through your nose. Tsukishima watched as you let it out, having a feeling that you were still shaking off the nerves of what you wanted to tell him. " I just want to drive; drive far from here with you, music, and maybe some books. I just want to drive and keep driving, see everything the world has to offer and everything it doesn't. I want to drive with you to the end of the sky, if there even is one, and until we run out of gas money. I just. . .I want to see something different, I wanna do something different." Your voice had risen up so suddenly then spilled out all at once, all so suddenly that it sounded like you were almost afraid that it was shove itself back inside; coward away at the fear of rejection. You didn't look down at Tsukishima after you spoke, or even while you spoke, you just kept your eyes up at the sky. You hands had found itself in front of your stomach, you fiddled with them as you waited for Tsukishima's answer. He could tell that your stomach must be in a knot, your brain swirling with the possibility of being rejected by him for reason X or reason Y. Tsukishima could basically feel it coming off you in waves. So, Tsukishima let out a soft hum to let you know he was giving your request a thought; hoping to relieve at least a little of your anxieties with the alert that he was giving your offer even a single thought. Maybe he would have hummed more than once if he was someone different, showing you that he was chewing over your thought multiple times in his head. That he was giving it some real consideration before he answered back to you. To show you that he cared about your opinions no matter how stupid he might think they are; simply because they're your opinions and he cares about you. But no matter how much he loved you, he still loved to tease you even more. "So what, you propose we run away together for weeks on end, not tell anyone where we're going, survive on whatever money we have, and just drive to heaven knowns where?" Snickered Tsukishima as he let out a puff of air, "That sounds like a perfect murder and missing persons case." You let turned to him, almost frowning your eyes as what he said processed in your mind. Though he could tell you didn't take to heart what he said, he could tell by the challenging smile you wore and the glimmer in your eyes. How you suddenly closed your arms and cocked your hip to the side, showing you were ready to argue your point. He loved that about you, you challenged the words of others but not to the point where he would get a headache. It was a nice change to the guys to stood inside that gym, who have no doubt have realized he's gone yet haven't been permitted to go fetch him; most likely thanks to Yamaguchi. "I'm serious, Kei. I want to see so many things in this world and I want to see them with you! Don't you want to go experience everything you thought you couldn't? It could be a mini-vacation, a week or two of us just driving and doing what we what in that moment." You rebutted, your eyes leaving him and looking up at the sky once more. "Sounds like a chaotic mess." Kei snickered as he followed your eyes up to the sky as well. It had mixed into more hues, looking almost like a painting. The blues swirled with the pinks that splashed with the oranges and the yellow dotted around like highlights. The white from the clouds fluffed in the sky, completing it all with a soft touch.

"But a stress-free chaotic mess. One where it's just our company, the open road, and anything that comes along! We can sleep in the car or in a hotel, I've been saving enough money for this-" You were stopped by Tsukishima who couldn't help but laugh, "Your savings for a rainy day don't count, dear-" This time, it was you who cut him off, "I knew you were going to say that so I saved another bank account just for this. We have enough funds to make it at least a week, to and back from where ever we want to go under the sky! I have everything . . . " Tsukishima noticed as your voice trailed off at the end, becoming soft once more. He noticed your pause, how your arms had fallen to your side and your brows frowned together even more. You glanced to him through the side of your eye, before fully turning your attention to him. ". . .everything, but you." Your words caused Tsukishima to stare at you for what felt like several minutes, maybe even more. He wondered if you thought he was analyzing how you presented yourself after that speech, after those 3 words that caused his heart to flutter, even just a little. Tsukishima kept his hazel eyes on you, his lip pressing into the palm of his hand. He let out a huff and turned away from you, looking at nothing again. You couldn't see it, but he hid a small smile under his palm. He would never let anyone but you to see that sort of smile on his lips, he wouldn't even chance it. "Fine, we'll go wherever you'll like the next time we're on break. I'll be all yours," Tsukishima snickered a little, "I'll even miss practice if I have to." And with those words, Tsukishima knew he had made your day. But, what you didn't know, is that you made him excited for that week; he couldn't wait.

©this work belongs to teeful-corner.ᐟ please do not plagiarize, copy, or steal this work; like, relogs, and saves are appreciated :D

#tsukishima x reader #kei tsukishima x reader #haikyuu fandom #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima fluff #haikyuu karasuno #kei tsukishima #haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fic #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x you

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butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway · 4 months

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Wifey's been chatting up the neighbors lately to attend to our contributions to the block, and it's very helpful because there are several places on the borders of the property which have existing shrubbery or trees that we need to deal with. So far, no one seems sure of whose plants they are, but also all 3 households moved in within the last 2yrs and the plants are all definitely quite a bit older than that. So we're going to need to coordinate a bit with the neighbors in order to navigate the landscaping of our lil patch of urban food forest. We've gotten enthusiastic support from Neighbor 1 to get rid of the mailbox shrub, and I don't really anticipate much trouble with Neighbor 2 when it comes around to removing the invasives. It is a honeysuckle, so they might like it, but I'll offer to replant the area with coral honeysuckle afterwards plantings, and add a grape or a passionflower as well.

I'm planning to share eggs through the neighborhood like a little egg fairy once the hens start laying, with little bundles of herb clippings, and maybe some perfume balms. We have some really lovely flowers here already, and I plan to add more.

I found a nursery with shrubs and fruit trees, and priced out some berry bushes to go around the hen house, as well as fig, pawpaw, and persimmon trees. I'd *really* like to find a black cherry tree, but so far I haven't had much luck. There are a few types of indigenous flora that maybe tend to be so prevalent that no one really seems to bother selling them? It's a lil frustrating, because I really want to have more low growing ground cover crops, but those are the ones often hardest to find. American plum trees are also weirdly hard to find, for being indigenous to the region. It seems to be the local fruiting plants mostly lol, a tragedy for me, a certified fruit simp (literal and metaphorical).

Anyway, I'm trying to get us up and running to the best of my ability by the end of summer. I want to have garden beds out for fall kale and root veggies. It's been fun to little by little get to puzzle out more of how our life is coming together.

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lynkurosawa · 3 days

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Twisted Wonderland and Akagami no Shirayuki hime crossover AU part 3!

So this is AU created when i'm thinking what if Yuu or Fuyumi is Shirayuki twin sister and she suddenly transported by a black carrige to Night Raven Collage infront of her sister, Zen, Mitsuhide, Kiki and Obi? Her sister married with the second prince so when she got missing all hell would broke loose.

Leona Kingscholar

Because she is a girl Leona respect her, they are around similar age but because she's born in february she could be said older than him. They meet in botanical garden when she actualy pick some herb to made medicine for the student who come to the infirmary.

She could understand his feelings to be compared because she also compared with her sister a lot too, but not like him who give up she don't. She do what she like and make her dream come true as the head pharmacist.

She don't like it when he call her 'red hair' because it remind her with the human trafficking who almost sold her and her sister also the dumb prince who almost make her and her sister his concubine, he stop to call her that after he know the reason and make sure she's protected outside NRC.

Had a soft spot on her, Ruggie joking that he have a crush on her but he isn't he just think of her as pack member. Maybe ?

He like it when she let him sleep on her lap sometime. He like her attention and annoying Riddle would be a bonus.

She talk him out of his problem and ask him did he really want to be a king? Because being a king is not easy. Her brother inlaw prince Izana is a king of Clarines and he don't have any free time for himself. If not because his wife he would over work himself. When he think about it again he don't want to be a king. That too much trouble and he can't be free if he born first. That made him felt better.

She advice him to found his own way in life and don't think about what other people opinion.

Ruggie Bucchi

He think her hardworking personality is admirable, the first time he meet her was in botanical garden because she found the caretaker accidently plant poisonous plant in the wrong place and that poisoning the water made the other slowly die. Ruggie and Jack helping her to replant it and stop the water flow for a while. In exchange she cook for them.

She also feed him a lot and made him not as skinny as before .

Ruggie think Leona had a crush on her despite he always say he isn't.

Fuyumi also give him a lot of food when she hear he was going home even give him medicine for his grandma. In exchange he would give her some herb that grow in his home town.

He think of her as a sister but never say it incase Riddle hear him (Riddle still had a grudge to him after what happend to Tray)

Jack Howl

He think Fuyumi is admirable and her hard working personality is cool. The first time he meet her he end up helping her to replant in the botanical garden with Ruggie and she feed them as thanks. Her cooking is delicious.

Knowing she almost forcefully become a concubine of a dumb prince and almost sold by human trafficking because her hair he would volunteer everytime Rook ask to protect her when he can't and she need to go outside.

Some time would call her nee san and like it when she pat his head.

He also got inside her favorite brother list

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imababblekat · 18 days

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This is Sheldon 😂 he’s an endangered gopher tortoise who showed up one day in 2022 (I think he was barely one because is was spring-summer time and mother gopher tortoises have been observed allowing their young to take shelter in their burrows over the winter) when I was replanting stuff in my greenhouse and he went straight for the old lettuce plants I threw in a compost “pile” by the greenhouse (they were starting to flower which turns their sap from clean to white and is gets sour). After that he went around and dug his burrow on the other side of my fence. He is still there and is about 3 ? I think and currently has been working semi weekly hole under my fence so he doesn’t have to walk all the way to the gate to go under. Occasionally we will get droughts and most of my grass and even the weeds will die off so I’ll occasionally sprinkle stuff randomly in my yard during those times of year for him to find when foraging to supplement his diet but I don’t want him to be reliant on me or too used to people. My recent ongoing project is to find native plants that gopher tortoises like to eat and plant them in my yard in accessible areas for him to find on his own. (Sorry for the very long adhd tortoise ramble 😅😂).

Ooooooh my goodneeeesss!!! Look at him scoots and him lil face!!! He is so stinking cute! And can I say how I absolutely love how he's just living his best life if your back yard like an un official pet of sorts! Where I'm from we got rattlesnakes, tarantulas, you name it, but nothing like this! I can't even imagine having a rattlesnake in my backyard that I'd just occasionally give some food or water lol XD

You're very lucky to have such a cute lil wild buddy, and he's very luck to have an adopted human such as you to help him out in hard times; he just a lil guy （；´д｀）ゞ

#sorry i just absolutely adore animals #he really is so cute tho <3 #tortoise #reply #@azorastarrjedi1

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prince-liest · 1 year

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It's been a solid few months now of Her Highness living in her own little tank with the company of only a single nerite snail that she isn't physically capable of assaulting, and I am happy to report that not only is she still exhibiting active and curious behavior, but also that I am finally actually starting to be happy with how the tank turned out.

My original plan for the visual design of the tank was to have a mix of Iwagumi and Dutch: I wanted some pretty seiryu stones with a foreground of monte carlo carpet, and a Dutch-style planted backdrop behind the stones.

The monte carlo carpet is growing in great now that I've yanked out the last vestiges of the glossostigma I'd also planted in there, but unfortunately 3/5 of the background plants that I used either died off or just weren't what I wanted and expected. I finally just yanked out the slowly decomposing stems and replaced them with a small forest of crypt wendtiis, and I think I'm very happy with that. Crypts are pretty, they'll grow pretty huge if the ones in my big tank are anything to go by, and they're nowhere near as much maintenance as stem plants. I'm tired of trimming, replanting, and dead lower stems.

I am hoping this will also help the algae get under control. The diatoms are finally dissipating, but I've started getting hair algae, and I'm convinced that it was at least partly from the decomposition of the struggling plants, since it's extremely easy to not overfeed a single betta fish. That, or I'm not fertilizing enough. Fingers crossed!

#personal #petblogging #aquariums #fishblr #planted tank #aquascaping #no full tank shot sorry I'll do one when the crypts grow in a bit #this is a high tech tank so hopefully they'll settle in well

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13-the-lucky-unlucky · 6 months

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Mission Name: Get Everyone To Chill!

Seventeen was, for the first time ever in his life, bored.

If he was being completely honest, he hasn't been alive all that long. Even so, he's been spending nearly every conscious moment of his life in the art gallery anyways, it's not like he did much else..

Except agent work-

But he liked forgetting about agent work, and preferred his nights go uninterrupted by night terrors.

That still did not change the fact that he had nothing to do.

He had already swept ten times over and done his due diligence replacing the artworks again.

The artist stared up at the ceiling in confusion.

He never got bored, he always had an idea for a painting, or a sculpture, or busy with agent work, or being dragged into some crazy idea Sixteen or Eighteen had.

Or at least spending the day with Nineteen..

But today none of that was happening, none of the other teens had come over, there was no agent work due, and Nineteen had gone shopping..

Not even prime club had something going on.

And there was always something going on with prime club!

(I mean it has Three, Thirteen, Twenty-nine, and Five in it, there's definitely drama almost every day, you can't convince me otherwise.)

The artist was currently watering his now blossoming marigolds, Sixteen was a great gardener, and had lent him some of her plants when he had expressed his love for her garden by painting it. He was grateful for the gift and Nineteen had a field day coming up with names for each and every single one of them.

Seventeen sighed when he planted the last seed, "There. All done! How's your end, Nineteen?"

"Almost halfway there!"

"What? We started hours ago-"

He was cut off by Nineteen mumbling something.

"Huh?"

Turning fully to face the one-off, he was taken aback by her pressing kisses to every seed before sticking it in the ground, but not before whispering something.

"...and you're Junior, and you're Ronald, and you're Mia, and you're Susan, and you're Sam, and you're Iris, and you're Edward-"

"Nineteen?"

She stopped, "Hm?"

"What are you doing?"

"I'm planting." She stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"I know, but what are you doing with the seeds?"

"I'm naming them." Nineteen blinked.

"Naming them? All of them?" Seventeen dropped his tiller, "But that's a lot of seeds.."

"Yeah, it is. And I've still got a lot more to get through. What did you name the others?"

The artist rubbed his head, "I...didn't?"

"What?! Why not?" Nineteen's sunhat fell off her head with how fast she stood.

"...I'm not very good at names?" He shrugged.

"Then I'll name them! You finish my side and I'll go through your side, okay?"

"But Nineteen-"

"Ooh, this is a pretty seed, what should your name be?" She held it out to him, "Got any ideas?"

He blinked at the object a few times, before hopefully offering, "...Seed?"

Nineteen looked like she was ready to cry, "What? No, you can't name it Seed!"

"Why not?" He frowned, "That's what it is."

"You can't name everything after what they are!"

"But..that's what names are for. So you know what something is!" Seventeen pulled out his paintbrush, "If I asked someone to fetch my paintbrush everyone knows what I'm talking about. But if I name it something else and ask the same question, they won't know."

Nineteen sighed, "I never thought I'd have to teach an artist how to be creative."

"What do you mean?"

She chuckled, replanting the seed. She softly took the brush from him, bringing out her pencil, "Names are more than just labels, Seventeen."

"Isn't that the point of a name?" He asked, perplexed.

"No. Sometimes a name gives one thing more meaning than others of that same thing." She pointed to him, "It's more personalized, if I asked someone to go and help me find the artist, they won't know who. But if I asked for help finding Seventeen, they know who."

He fumbled with his words for a bit, "Well.. Then only certain things must be named, but why should-"

"Because you can personalize your plants! It's easier to talk to them with a name."

"I..suppose. But why would I be talking to them?"

"Who knows, but at least you'll have something to call them!"

"...Hm."

"It does make sense now, right?"

Seventeen hummed once more, taking his paintbrush back, "I guess."

Ah, that was a fun day..

He continued humming Ten's song, honestly, he quite liked the soft melody, it was similar to his own, "There you are Goldilocks.. That should be enough for now.."

He carefully watched the water dribble down the stem and seep into the soil below, it pleased him that his compost collection was working perfectly.

He may not be very strong or particularly skilled in something that actually matters, but he was definitely very big on recycling. He'd once had a run in with Rexie, Sixteen's dinosaur, having an issue with his stomach, after finding out the poor dino had consumed an insane amount of trash, he couldn't stand seeing plastic bottles or anything else that had a place anywhere but a recycling bin.

"That, and it just ruins the natural beauty of the planet.." He sighed, "I do hope Numberland can avoid being so cluttered."

It wasn't really anyone's fault, though.

Things randomly showed up on Numberland, it just happened, and it was nice to learn about something new, but the fact that some of it was falling from space was a more than a little concerning.

"I do wonder how a tennis racket got up there, though."

He really should go do something, he's starting to talk to nobody..

The front door opened, the small bell ringing as to get his attention.

His fear spiked, but he swiftly calmed down.

It's not Nineteen, she would've let me know, so it's someone else.

Interested that somebody had ventured their way to the art gallery, he finished watering the last of the plants and hurried to the shed.

"Hello? Who is it?" He placed the watering can back on the shelf and walked into the main gallery.

His immediately relief when he caught a glimpse of apricot and a purple hat.

"Oh, Twenty! How are you?"

Twenty didn't respond at first, he was admiring...something in the corner.

"Ah, Seventeen! Here you are!" Twenty beamed, "I was just about to look for you, friend!"

Seventeen was about to answer with nearly as much enthusiasm, but unfortunately looked down at where Twenty was watching, and froze at the sight of a spider scurry up the wall corner, "Um..y-yes..Right."

"So I came to fetch you because-"

There's a spider-

"Um, Twenty?"

"Yes? Is there something wrong?" Twenty seemed puzzled, as if he hadn't just released one of Seventeen's top ten fears into his home.

He gestured to the arachnid, "Uh, why is that there?"

"Oh, that's just Carl, I brought him here with me." Twenty nodded.

So it has a name..? Does he just not know how to name things, because spiders don't deserve names- Who would need to name it?

"You....you brought a spider into the art gallery?"

"Yes?" Twenty raised an eyebrow, he reached a hand out, seemingly ready to steady the artist should he fall, "Are you alright? Something wrong?"

Seventeen gestured to the spider now higher near the ceiling, where it could disappear into the cracks and never to be seen again until it was too late-, "Yes, you cannot bring spiders into the art gallery! They're going to scare everyone!"

"I only brought one.."

"For now, do you know how many minispiders it can make?!"

"..No?"

"Like- thousands!" Seventeen's hand reached out to the side for a broom that wasn't there.

"Oh, interesting."

"No, not interesting. Terrifying. Now please take it out.."

"But-"

"Besides, there's nothing here for it to eat, it'll starve." Seventeen pleaded, "Please take it back out."

Twenty sighed, "If you say so."

He stood tall and plucked the spider off of the wall, "Do you want to hold him?"

That was an absolute no, and he needed a different subject, now.

"No thank you, but what did you need?"

Twenty brightened up, eagerly tapping his cane against the ground, "I'm gathering everyone together! I have a fun thing for us to do!"

That got his attention, "Oh, really?!"

Twenty nodded enthusiastically, it was a wonder how his hat didn't fall off, "Indeed. You're gonna love it!"

"What is it?"

Twenty chuckled, waving his hand, "I can't let you know, It's a surprise! I haven't gotten everyone yet, and I don't want to keep repeating myself."

That was fair, Seventeen surmised, Twenty was all for efficiency. If it didn't make sense to do it, he wouldn't give it a second thought, he relied on this method for many situations, and it's often gotten him out unharmed.

"SEVENTEEN!"

Seventeen let out a slight huff when Sixteen practically glomped him, "Hello Sixteen!"

"Did Twenty tell 'ya what we're doing yet?"

"No, not yet."He shook his head.

"Aw man, I was hopin' he'd tell you." She pouted.

Twenty chuckled, "Not yet, my friends! It won't be a surprise if I tell you!"

Sixteen groaned, "Why does EVERYONE say that..?"

"Because it's true!" Twenty laughed, "Alright, let's go find Eighteen and Nineteen!"

Seventeen pointed to the doors, "Nineteen went shopping a while ago..she should've been home by now.."

Sixteen hummed, "Well, do we wait for her? 'Cuz I've got loads a' things for us to do while we wait!"

She brought out a rather impressive assortment of board games and other toys, tossing them to the floor of the art gallery, Twenty stepped back, mildly impressed, "I had no idea you carried so many things with you, Sixteen."

Sixteen snorted, "The more the merrier! Six let me have this one- Roly-poly, I think.."

"Monopoly?"

"Yeah! That's what she said! N' Thirty-six let me have Clue. Then I have these spare airhorns just in case!"

"In case what?"

"In case I need more airhorns! Duh!" She laughed, honking them, "Can't have too much noise!"

Seventeen, who already thought it was too much noise, winced, "I do hope she's alright.."

"Oh?" Twenty looked back at the doors, "Nineteen?"

"Last time she went to the store she ran into Octonaughty-"

"And escaped?"

"Well..yeah, but-"

"Then she's perfectly capable of taking care of herself. I'm sure she just took a detour of some kind. She'll join us again very soon, my friend, I'm certain!" Twenty placed his hand on his shoulder, giving an affirming nod, "We could go looking for her and meet her halfway!"

Sixteen, who was already setting out the Monopoly pieces, cheered, "Great! I'll get to putting these back! You guys go 'n get her, I'll catch up!"

"Are you sure?" Twenty blinked, a small frown playing on his lips, "I would hate to leave you behind."

"I'm fine! I gotta clean up anyways! Seventeen likes this place neat, and I don't wanna ruin his hard work."

Seventeen sighed, "I can clean up, Sixteen. It's alright."

Sixteen managed to shove everything back into it's place, "Well you guys oughta wait for me now! I'm almost done!"

Twenty nodded, "Do hurry."

As soon as silence began to flood back into the room, it was abruptly interrupted by the sound of Nineteen slamming open the door, completely out of breath.

"Nineteen! There you are! I was beginning to get worried-"

Nineteen let out what sounded like a strangled gasp, bringing Seventeen in for a hug, almost squishing the poor artist.

"You're safe.."

Seventeen held her at arms length, "I'm safe?? You're safe! You were taking so long!"

"Yeah, but at least you didn't come home to the door just left open! I thought someone broke in!"

He blinked, "It was?"

"Uh..yes!" Nineteen let go of him, still holding his left hand, "How did you not notice?"

"I..didn't check?" Seventeen glanced at the other two numbers in the room.

Sixteen chuckled, "That was me, sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

The one-off sighed, "No...No, it's fine. I'm just glad you're okay. I've got the groceries outside, I'll bring them in."

"I'll get them, I have square power!" Sixteen jumped up, "I'm done cleaning, I can go put up the groceries then we can go!"

"Go?" Nineteen glanced at Twenty, "Where are you taking us this time?"

Twenty, mildly surprised, held a hand to his chest, fidgeting with his bow-tie, "Ah? How did you know I'd suggested that?"

"Seventeen doesn't get out unless I make him, Sixteen would've been gone already, I just got here and I haven't even suggested leaving again. So that left you, Twinkle Toes." She laughed.

"..Hm, rather logical." The tango choreographer glanced to the side, "I didn't know you were that quick with your mind."

"Are you calling me slow?" Nineteen uncrossed her arms, unsure if she should be offended.

"No, not at all!" Twenty waved his arms.

Nineteen laughed, "I'm just messing with you. So we're on our way to Eighteen's, then?"

"Right again." He tapped his cane on the ground, "As soon as Sixteen comes back we'll depart."

"So...what's the surprise?"

Twenty blinked, "I'm not even going to ask how you knew it was a surprise-.. I can't tell you!"

"Figured." She elbowed Seventeen, "Hey, can you help Sixteen find out where everything goes?"

"Will-do!" He bolted to the front door, helping Sixteen find her way to the upstairs area, "I'll show you where to put everything."

"Sure thing!"

Nineteen turned to Twenty, "Can I guess what it is?"

"Maybe." He grinned.

"Is it..another rescue mission?"

"No rescuing teddy bears from evil museum dungeons this time."

"...Hm, are we...dancing?"

"That's almost a better idea.." He stared at the ceiling, "I still have yet to show Carl how to dance."

"Carl?"

"The spider." Twenty held out his hand, the small critter balancing on his array display.

"EXCUSE ME- WHY DID YOU BRING A SPIDER INTO-"

"Do not worry, Nineteen. I'm not leaving him here."

"Why is he IN here?!"

"Are you and Seventeen both scared of spiders?"

"N-no! It's just- Why would you bring one in here?"

"Because he's my friend." Twenty blinked, ever the clueless.

"Please take it out." Nineteen facepalmed.

"...If you say so." Twenty nodded down at the spider, "Meet me at home, the window is open, you can crawl in through there."

He opened the front door and put it on the ground, and as if it didn't even happen, he turned back to Nineteen, grinning widely, "Anymore guesses?"

"Wh-..that's just.. random."

"Well, do you have any more?"

"..Can I have a hint?"

"No."

"...What about..walking?"

"Hm."

"A hike?"

"I guess we would be hiking there.."

"Aha!" Nineteen pumped her fist, "I guessed!"

"Not entirely, we'll be doing more than hiking."

"Just let me have this small victory.."

"Perhaps.."

Sixteen and Seventeen returned down the stairs, having finished their tasks.

"Alright, who's READY TO GET TO EIGHTEEN'S HOUSE?!"

"You, I surmise?"

Sixteen huffed and put her hands on her hips, "Don't act like you're not excited."

"If you say so."

Twelve answered the door, "Oh! Hi, thank goodness you're here!"

Twenty glanced sideways at Nineteen, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!...I hope." Twelve sighed, opening the door wider, "Come in."

Shrugging at each other, the group entered and found a seat in the livingroom.

"You're here for Eighteen, right?" Twelve had her hands clasped together.

"Yes?" Nineteen hesitantly replied, "Is he alright?"

"I'm sure he's fine.." Twelve looked around, "But he hasn't been himself lately, and locked himself in his room."

"Why didn't you say so?!" Sixteen jumped from the floor, "I can have him out faster than you can say 'Squares'!"

(Why did my mind go 'buncha munchy crunchy carrots' lol)

"No! No! He's not locked in! He locked it himself. He wants to be in there."

"Oh, then what's the problem?" She sat back down.

"That is the problem!" Twelve grabbed at the sides of her head, she couldn't find anything to hold onto, though, "Eighteen never stays in his room unless he's upset about something! And I can't get him to say anything as per usual!" Her voice cracked at the end of her sentence.

As Twelve struggled to keep herself from crying, the Teens looked at each other frightfully.

"...Dearie me..it's okay to cry, Twelve.." Seventeen got off the edge of the couch, making his way to the super rectangle, who had a slightly better handle on herself, and slowly touched her arm, "It's natural, and it's good to express yourself. I'm sure we can fix it."

"Why didn't you tell us before?" Nineteen also rose, her eyebrows angled with worry.

"I thought I could get him to talk to me..I don't know why he never tells me- It's like everyone can talk to him better than I can.. And I just want to be a good older sister.." She mumbled, wiping the few tears that did fall, "I did ask Fourteen to help, but Eighteen wouldn't even let him in. I had to force Fourteen to go home, and now I've worried him too.."

"...I'm very sorry. I'm sure he just doesn't want to worry you.." Seventeen stared back at them worriedly, "Can someone try to talk to him? I need to call Fifteen."

Nineteen rubbed Twelve on the back, the other hand taking her arm, "You go call her, I've got Twelve."

He nodded and pulled out his communicator, walking outside.

"Twenty, I'm going to make her some tea," Sixteen got up, "Do you have Eighteen, or do you want to wait?"

Twenty sullenly watched Twelve, "Go ahead, Sixteen. I'll go cheer him up."

She nodded.

Twenty slowly made his way upstairs, noting Eighteen's room was indeed closed.

Peering down at the crack of the door, he saw that it was a lot darker, implying Eighteen had the drapes closed.

"Hm." He knocked on the door briskly, "Eighteen? Are you in there?"

A small shuffle.

He used his cane to knock again, "Eighteen?"

"...what?"

Twenty smiled, "Ah, there you are. Are you feeling alright?"

"...Twenty?...Yeah, I'm fine. Whaddya' want?"

"I was just wondering if you wanted to come with us? I have a surprise planned, and I'm sure you'll like it!"

"...'mnot interested.."

Twenty blinked, "You don't even know what it is."

"I'm not interested."

The tango choreographer glared at the crack of the door, truly perplexed as to why Eighteen's drapes were closed, the super rectangle loved sunshine and open spaces almost as much as racing. "Why not?"

"....'m a little tired..okay? Can..can you come back some other time?"

"Unfortunately I cannot accept your request. Twelve is mighty worried, and I am as well."

"She'll be fine.."

"I believe you've underestimated how much she cares for you."

"...'m fine."

"Then please come with us."

"I don't feel like it.."

"It'll be worth it. I promise."

"...leave me alone."

"Not a chance friend." Twenty finally picked the lock on the door, opening it, "Sorry to intrude, Eighteen, but I do have to make sure you're truly unhurt."

Eighteen didn't even move, only turning over in his bed, "M'kay, jus leave everything where it is.."

Twenty glanced at the drapes, opening them, "Eighteen, please. I do need to talk to you."

"You already are..now close those.."

"No." Twenty pulled over a stool, "You need to discuss with me what is bothering you."

Eighteen finally sat up, surprising Twenty.

He looked...tired.

Really tired.

Burnt out tired.

"...Eighteen?"

"What?"

"Have you been getting sleep?"

"No! Because everyone keeps bothering me! I was trying to sleep, but then Twelve started asking what's wrong, then Fourteen, and now you- I'm just really tired.. and...Its as hard to fall asleep as it is.." Eighteen yawned, laying back down, "I'm so tired.."

"...My sincerest apologies.." Twenty fidgeted with his cane.

"T's fine..Tell sis that she's good too.. I'm just... I can't get comfy.. So I don't sleep, but finding a comfy spot is so hard.."

Twenty stared at the bed, "Will you come with us, Eighteen?"

"Really? Are you still on that- I just told you I'm tired.. And I'm getting cranky and stuff. I don't wanna snap at you guys.." Eighteen sighed.

"I promise you'll like it." Twenty nodded, "Please. I want to help you, friend."

The super rectangle blinked a few times, "You...fine."

"Fantastic."

Eighteen stumbled down the stairs after Twenty, and Twelve was in a way better mood.

It still didn't stop her from nearly dropping her teacup upon seeing them though.

"Eighteen! I-"

"It's alright, Twelve. 'M fine..just really tired.."

Twenty nodded, "Sleeping here is stressing him out."

"What? Did I do something wrong?" Twelve gasped.

"No, no. It's not you, Twelve. Honest." Nineteen interjected.

Sixteen nodded, "Yeah, sometimes you get really stressed out, and your room isn't comfy enough to sleep in."

"That's when you know you need a vacation." Twenty finished, "So Eighteen is coming with us."

Twelve seemed, less on edge. She looked to her brother, "...Okay..then, have fun. And get lots of sleep."

Eighteen hugged her, "Mhm. Now calm down..You can't be panicking while I'm chill...That's wrong."

Tears welled in her eyes again and she nodded.

"Are you gonna be okay here by yourself?" Nineteen asked.

Before Twelve could answer, the door was flung open and the tweens rushed in, carrying various soft items and... a handful of lavender??

"Twelve! Apologies that it took us so long!" Fifteen started, placing her green tea bags on the coffee table.

"Are you okay, Twelve?!" Eleven almost knocked Nineteen over with how she shoved her aside, pulling Twelve in for a hug much like the one-off did Seventeen earlier, "Tell me you're okay!"

Fourteen threw his skateboard and a heated wooly blanket to the side, joining Eleven in her hug, "I'm so sorry I didn't check on you, dudette!"

"I BROUGHT YOU RELAXATION!" Thirteen tossed the lavender at her, also near tears as he also engaged with the group hug quickly forming, "I'm a terrible friend, I know! But I couldn't think of anything!"

Twelve was still processing the initial entrance, and slowly began to realize that she was surrounded by her friends, and burst into tears.

"Shh. It's alright, Twelve. We're here."

"We'll fight the sadness, don't worry!"

"S'okay dudetee.."

"Was it too much lavender?"

Seventeen slowly walked back in, gasping, "Hah! You got Eighteen?"

Twenty nodded, "He's tired. So he's coming with us by default. Ready, friends?"

"Sure thing!" Sixteen answered, being the only one not watching the Tweens slowly devolve into a cuddle pile.

When they finished hiking up the mountain, all of them except Twenty gasped in amazement.

"Surprise friends!" Twenty spread his arms, "I've built us a treehouse!"

If the treehouse already didn't look magnificent, the scenery sure did, the house sat atop steady wooden poles attached to the mountainside, a thick canopy of trees below oozing the smell of evergreen and freshness. A calm mist hung over all of it, as the waterfall nearby made for the perfect background noise.

This would be the best place to relax, if Nineteen had to pick one.

"...You built this?" Seventeen piped up.

"Yes! I wanted to surprise you all, so I couldn't ask for help."

Sixteen squealed, "It's amazing! Can we stay? Pretty please?!"

"Of course, it's a vacation is it not?" Twenty grinned.

Eighteen smiled, "This..this is nice..and quiet.. but not too quiet.. And wide open.."

Nineteen laughed, "Right, go get some sleep, champ. You've earned it!"

The super rectangle yawned, slowly flying up to the treehouse and opening the door, "WOW THIS PLACE HAS EVERYTHING!"

"REALLY?" Sixteen activated her rays to join him, Twenty following them.

"Whelp. They forgot us." The one-off nudged Seventeen.

"Don't worry, I'll make a way up!" Seventeen began to paint some stairs, "This is the perfect spot for ideas! I'll come back out with my sketchbook!"

"Sure thing, buddy." Nineteen opened the door, feeling the warmth of the fire Twenty set, "Oh, it is nice in here.."

Eighteen was already knocked out on one of the nearby couches, snoring peacefully. It was clear he needed this more than all of them combined.

"Wanna play Clue with me, anyone?" Sixteen was already setting out the pieces, regardless of their answers.

Twenty chuckled, "Sure Sixteen, I'll play. What will you be doing, Nineteen?"

"...Hm. I'll read over there."

"Ah, fireplace reading, can't get better than that." Twenty nodded, "I'll be Mr. Green."

"I'll be Madame Rose, then." Sixteen laughed.

Seventeen was already out on the balcony, sketching the waterfall in his own unique inspiration.

Twenty smiled, "Well, I'd say mission accomplished."

#13tlu #numberblocks #twenty numberblocks #fifteen numberblocks #sixteen numberblocks #seventeen numbeblocks #eighteen numberblocks #nineteen numberblocks #thirteen numberblocks #fourteen numberblocks #twelve numberblocks #eleven numberblocks #oneshots

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